A Mother's Love
by Susan82
Summary: Sam and Dean must overcome their emotional and physical wounds as they work to save children from a supernatural foe. Set in the first season. Hurt!Sam and Hurt!Dean COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_It's been a while since I've written anything, so this is being offered with a bit of trepdation. Um, I can't think of anything else to write, other than the usual "I don't own anything" discalimer. That being said...Enjoy!_

**A Mother's Love**

Dean Winchester let out his breath in a controlled exhale. He'd just been ready to execute his final attack when suspicious dark eyes darted his way. Dean quickly averted his own gaze, once again pretending to read the newspaper before him. After a sufficient amount of time passed, he risked a quick peek. His stomach quivered anxiously as he assessed the situation. Convinced that his target had dropped his guard, Dean inched his hand towards the yellow bag. The bag rustled noisily as he reached inside. Dean's hand stilled instantly, but the other man seemed not have heard the telltale sound. Dean resumed his movement, giving a loud cough as he grabbed the last tiny orb. If he didn't connect with this shot, he didn't know if he'd ever get another. Dean took careful aim, mentally crossing his fingers as he sent the final soldier of his colorful army into the air.

Dean's aim had never been truer. The M&M managed to find the one part of Sam's forehead not covered by his long hair. Dean grinned victoriously as the little blue candy penetrated Sam's thick dark bangs, bouncing off his forehead and hitting the table before rolling onto the floor to join it's fallen comrades.

Dean gave a victory cry, tossing the newspaper to the side and pumping his fist in the air. "Damn, did you see that? Bullseye!"

Sam gritted his teeth. He looked over at Dean, who sat gloating on the edge of the bed. He resisted the urge to yell at him, knowing the immense pleasure Dean would receive from the extreme reaction. He forced his face to relax.

"Does that mean you're done now?" Sam wasn't able to completely filter all of the aggravation out of his voice.

Dean's grin got even wider as he devoured Sam's irritation. He crumpled up the empty bag and tossed it across the tiny motel room. It fell slightly short of Sam's jeanclad leg, landing amongst the dozens of peanut M&Ms scattered on the floor.

"Hell, no! Fill 'er up, Sammy boy. It's time for round two!" Dean's green eyes twinkled. While his one-sided M&M war had provided a welcome distraction from the mind-numbing search for a new supernatural hunt, it had also given him the added bonus of ticking off his little brother.

Sam absentmindedly scratched his left bicep. The wound inflicted from Jacob Carn's hook was healing nicely, if the constant itching was any indication. Dean had done his best not to fret over the deep gash, giving the younger man the space he needed to deal with the physical and emotional wounds sustained during the hunt. Now it appeared the grace period was up. If anything, Dean seemed more ampped up than usual. He was practically jumping up and down like a little puppy. Sam fixed a stern stare on his face in an attempt to bring his brother back to business.

"No, it's time for you to get your nose back in the papers and find us another gig." Sam firmly admonished the gleeful man.

"No, it's time to get the hell out of this god-awful motel room. If I have to spend one more second looking at these orange walls I swear I'll go postal." Dean ran his hand through his hair, giving it an agitated tug. "It's Friday night, Sammy! Come on, let's get out of here!"

Sam waved his hand dismissively at Dean. "Go ahead. No one's stopping you. I've got some calls to make, plus there are still a few more sites I want to check out." He turned the laptop away from the center of the room and shifted in his chair, turning his back on Dean and their discussion.

Dean got up and made his way past the two twin beds. He sidestepped the fallen M&MS, as well as his brother's attempt to end the conversation. Dean closed the laptop, eliciting an angry, "Dude!" from Sam.

"Sam, we've been searching for a new lead for hours and we haven't found anything. No weird happenings and no news on Dad. A couple hours away'll do you good…clear your head. Maybe even put some color back in those pasty cheeks of yours." Dean playfully slapped Sam's cheek.

Sam lashed out, narrowly missing his brother's hand. "Look, I'm not in the mood to watch you prance around hitting on every girl in a tight t-shirt. Go do your thing and I'll hang here."

"Whoa. First of all, I do not prance." Dean shot back quickly. "Second of all, I'm appalled you think I'm that shallow! It takes more than a hot body to get Dean Winchester's seal of approval." After a pause he continued. "Of course, if the ladies decide to show off their assets, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't offer my appreciation of their, uh...talents?"

Dean waited to see which of Sam's patented reactions he'd receive; the loud sigh, the rolling of the eyes, the half-amused half-ticked off glare, or the homerun combination of all three. But Sam threw him a curveball by staring sullenly over Dean's shoulder.

_And here we go again, _Dean thought to himself as he moved into Sam's eyeline. "Sam, this doom and gloom attitude is really getting old."

Sam licked his lips but remained silent.

Dean worked to soften his tone. "Look, I know the last few months have been hell, not to mention this past week, but you've gotta lighten up a little." Dean flashed a grin. "I've waited years to use my little brother as my wing man. Give the brooding a rest for the night and put those magic dimples to work!" Dean's hand headed towards Sam's face again, this time giving his cheeks a painful tweak.

Sam sat back in his chair. "You're right. You are absolutely right. Here I am wasting my time researching leads that could actually save someone's life, when I could be helping to get you laid! I guess I was a little distracted, you know, trying to find our missing father. So excuse me for not being more sensitive to your needs, because it's obvious you don't give a damn about anyone except yourself."

The hurtful words tumbled past Sam's lips before he could stop them. His hazel eyes widened as he tried to take back what he'd just said, but his traitorous mouth clamped up, denying him the apology he owed his brother.

Dean's eyes narrowed to mere slits. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his feelings in check. Although it was good for Sam to release some of his pent-up emotions, his harsh words hurt more than any physical wound ever could. Normally he'd answer remarks like that with a strong right hook. However, their lives the last few months had been anything but normal, even for them.

Dean put his balled-up fists on his waist to hide the furious tremors. "Anything else you want to say?" Dean didn't wait for a response as he pushed away the hurt feelings, letting his anger come to the surface. "He's my dad, too, dammit."

Sam sighed, looking almost as weary and defeated as he had the night Jessica died. "Dean, man, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean….I mean, I'd never—" he broke off, resting his forehead on the heel of his hand.

Dean's emotions flip-flopped, sorrow and pity taking the forefront. The old saying was true; we always hurt the ones we love. Give the kid a gun or a knife and Sam turned into a fierce warrior, but by far his words were his deadliest weapons. Sam's words cut deep, but Dean knew the dark place they came from. Dean harbored his own fears and doubts surrounding their dad's disappearance and Jessica's death, but where Sam kept his near the surface, Dean chose to bury them.

Sam pulled his head up. He tried to continue the apology, but was cut off.

"It's fine, Sam. Whatever." Dean said flippantly as he walked stiffly towards the other side of the room. He picked up a newspaper and eased himself onto the bed.

Sam closed his eyes, a string of expletives filling the tense silence. _Way to go, jackass. _He rubbed his hands roughly over his face. Dropping his hands, he looked over at his brother.

"Dean."

The stone-faced man raised the newspaper, creating a handy barrier between the two brothers. Sam sighed. Dean wasn't going to make this easy. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he caught a glimpse of the sea of M&Ms.

"Fine. We'll play it your way." Sam murmured as he gathered up the candies. His right arm upraised, he gave a sincere apology one more shot.

"Come on, Dean. I'm trying to apologize here."

Sam received a warning cough from behind the newspaper, indicating that Dean was in no mood to make amends. Well, if you can't beat 'em…

Sam fired a red M&M straight at the center of the paper. A playful smile flashed across his face as the candy made a dent in the paper. Dean straightened it back out with a swift shake and remained silent. The next two volleys elicited the same reaction.

Sam was done messing around. He jiggled the M&Ms in his right hand. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Sam." The urgency in Dean's voice halted Sam's hand. Dean lowered the newspaper. "I think I found something."

Sam sat forward in his chair, the fight forgotten as the brothers got back to business. "What've you got?"

"Trinity, Pennsylvania. Some woman was arrested for trying to kill her son." Dean said, his eyes still scanning the rest of the article.

Sam winced. "What happened?"

"Elaine Donovan. Typical American soccer mom. Til one day she decides to attack her four year old son with a shard of broken mirror. Stabbed him three times before her daughter managed to get her off of him."

"Oh my god." Sam breathed. "How is he?"

"Lucky. He spent four nights in the hospital and ended up with more stitches than Frankenstein, but he'll be ok." Dean answered.

"What makes it our deal? I hate to say it, but it's not the first time a parent has tried to hurt a child." Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "You're more right than you know." He cleared his throat as he read from the article. "'It was only two months ago that this tiny community was rocked by the brutal murder of eight year old Becky Lanigan. The child's mother, Wendy Lanigan, was arrested after confessing to the murder.'" Dean shook his head sadly. "It goes on to say she waited until the kid fell asleep, then choked her to death."

Sam shuddered at the unwanted image his overactive imagination provided him. Parents were supposed to be a refuge from the dangers in the world, not a cause of them.

"You thinking possession?" Sam asked.

"Maybe." Dean paused for dramatic effect. "Or it could have something to do with the ghost Wendy claims she saw."

"Hmmm." Sam thoughtfully jiggled the M&Ms. "Vengeful spirit? Using the mothers to extract some sort of revenge?"

Dean ripped the article out of the paper. He tossed the remainder on the floor as he stood up. "Only one way to find out."

Sam shifted the M&Ms from one hand to the other, a faraway look on his face. After a moment's consideration he nodded.

Dean moved over to the dresser and pulled his clothes from the drawer. The restlessness was gone, replaced with a sense of purpose. This new hunt would get them back on the road again. It also distracted Sam from his most recent guilt trip, however temporary that reprieve may be. There was just one more matter that needed addressing.

"Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Dean folded a blue t-shirt and stuffed it inside his bag. He continued to pack as he said, "You don't drop those M&Ms, I'll stuff them the one place they _will_ melt."

The good-natured threat hung in the air as Dean continued to casually pack his clothes. With his back towards Sam, Dean couldn't see his brother's reaction. It wasn't until he heard the telltale crash of the candies hitting the bottom of the tiny plastic garbage can that he looked over his shoulder. He met Sam's sullen glare with an easy smile as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

Dean bent down and tossed Sam's empty bag at his brother. "Get a move on, Sammy. We've got a ghost to catch."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much to everyone who has come along for the ride, and especially those who have left such wonderful reviews. This chapter's a bit short, I admit, but it'll equal out on some further chapters that seem to go on and on and on...kind of like this author's note. I'll shut up now. Enjoy!!_

**A Mother's Love**

Dean gently guided the black Impala through the tree-lined streets. He squinted as the bright sunlight reflected off the sideview mirror of the car in front of him. Gunning the classic car's powerful engine, he quickly sped around the slower moving sedan. With the open road stretched out before him, he turned his attention to Sam.

Sam had his cell phone cradled against his shoulder as he scribbled furiously on the paper in his lap. Dean craned his neck to see what was being written. His lips moved silently as he attempted to decipher Sam's chicken scratch.

"Ok. Yes, thank you very much. Ok, bye." Sam ended the call and threw his pen into the backseat. He gently massaged his temples in an attempt to head off the headache he could feel lurking behind his eyes.

"Next time you do the calling." Sam griped. His ear still rang from the hour and a half he'd spent on the phone tracking down leads for their newest job.

Dean gave a one-armed shrug. "I'm the boss, you're the secretary. That's just the way it works."

Sam gave an annoyed sideways glance but didn't say anything. Dean reached over and snatched the paper from Sam's lap. He held it against the wheel.

"'Elaine is unclog swatter wants?'" Dean turned the paper upside down and back again.

"'Elaine is under suicide watch.'" Sam corrected loudly. "You mind keeping your eyes on the road?" Sam grabbed the paper back as Dean guided the Impala back in between the dotted white lines.

Dean frowned. "I guess that leaves her out of the picture. No way are we getting in to see her. What about the other one? Uh, Wendy?"

"There we caught a break. She's in the psych ward of the local hospital. Should be a bit of a challenge getting in, but nothing we can't handle."

Dean nodded. "What else were you able to find out?"

"Um, right." Sam turned the paper over and looked over the notes he'd jotted down. "As far as I can tell, there's no connection between the two women, and no common traits. Elaine's a stay at home mom. She and her husband have been married for almost ten years and have two kids, four year old Steve and seven year old Jenna. Wendy's a single mom who had full custody of her daughter. Dad lives out of state and hasn't seen Becky since she was a baby."

"What about social groups? PTA, church, stuff like that?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't get that far."

Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How about the kids? Any connections there?"

"I couldn't dig up anything on them. Although I suppose it's possible they knew each other through Elaine's daughter, Jenna. She and Becky are...were...in the same grade." Sam winced when he made the correction.

"Well then, I guess we're stuck until we get to Trinity. How much further?" Although Dean was never more at home then when he was behind the wheel of the Impala, he was eager to get to work.

"Not far. We should be there in about an hour." Sam said.

"Good." Dean smiled over at Sam. The younger man settled back in his seat and shut his eyes.

Dean turned up the volume and took a deep breath. The Impala gave a growl of pleasure as Dean pushed his foot a little harder on the accelerator. It was time to give the classic car a little work-out.

Forty-five minutes later Sam and Dean had checked into the one and only motel in Trinity, Pennsylvania. Dean threw his bag onto the bed and smirked at Sam.

"One hour my ass!"

Dean's persistent good mood had spread to Sam, who found himself copying the grin. He paused in the doorway; turning his back on the quaint sky blue room he filled his lungs with the fresh pine scented air. Nestled in the midst of a vast forest, the little hamlet was just the sort of town Sam had pictured himself escaping to one day. While their travels had brought them through many tiny villages, this was the first time he'd ever actually been in a real one stoplight town.

He took a step back outside and looked further down the road to where The Thirsty Turtle stood. The look on Dean's face as they passed the sign for Trinity's one and only bar was by far the highlight of Sam's week. The neon turtle seemed to offer a toast to the brothers as it poked it's head out of it's shell to take a swig from the oversized mug. While the cheesy sign had made Sam smile, Dean's appalled, "You have got to be kidding!" had made Sam laugh out loud.

Sam walked back into the room and dropped his bags on the small wooden table near the window. Keeping his expression neutral, Sam couldn't resist poking a little fun at his brother. "Hey, Dean. When this is over we should head over to the bar and grab a few beers." He paused a beat before continuing. "Maybe some pond water."

Dean stopped his unpacking long enough to give Sam a dirty look. "Cute."

Sam put his hands on his hips and tried his best to look concerned. "Seriously, man, we might have a problem here."

Dean rolled his head towards the ceiling and sighed. "Ok, let's hear it."

Sam shook his head with false pity. "I'm just not sure how many fast women you're going to find in a place called The Thirsty _Turtle_."

Dean walked over and snatched one of the duffle bags from the table. He raised an eyebrow at his smirking sibling. "Done?"

Sam finally let his laughter ring out in the small room. "For now."

Sam opened up his bag and pulled out his laptop. "Ok, it's three o'clock. Let's get cleaned up and then head out. You go see Wendy and I'll take Elaine's family." He continued to outline his plan as he set up the computer. "I'll drop you off at the hospital and pick you up when I'm done."

Dean's eyes widened. "Excuse me? _You're _taking the car? Explain to me how _that's_ going to happen." Dean folded his arms in defiance.

Dean's tough-guy act did little to intimidate Sam. "Fine, we can switch. You drop me off at the hospital, and you can do family time at the Donovans'. I know how much you love kids." Sam smiled innocently at Dean. Dean had showed his hidden soft side when they'd encountered little Lucas Barr, and Sam was still getting as much mileage out of it as he could.

"No, it's not that--" Dean began.

"Good, then it's settled. I'm going to see what I can dig up on the families while you take your shower. Oh, and Dean?" Sam walked over to the bag Dean had grabbed and pulled out a wrinkled ball of tan clothing. "Hang this up while you're showering so the wrinkles can steam out." he said as he tossed the wad over to Dean.

Dean caught the clothing and blinked at it, confused. His jaw hung slack as he tried to sort out exactly when he'd relinquished control. Since when did Sam finalize the plans? Somehow Dean had gone from calling the shots to becoming Sam's laundry boy. And just how did he lose the Impala?

Dean began to argue, but trailed off as he looked at his brother. The kid had been through so much these past few months. The least Dean could do is let him win this one. Dean rolled his eyes in submission. "Fine, but you're buying lunch!"

Sam grinned at Dean, his eyes sparkling like fireworks proclaiming victory. Dean grumbled as he turned his back on a smirking Sam. "Little brothers are a bitch."

_Don't worry...Dean isn't giving up the Impala quite as easily as it seems. I will touch on that in the next (longer) chapter. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

_It was brought to my attention by two wonderful ladies (Thanks Phoenix & Kyriebess!) that my characterization of Sam in the first two chapters was a bit off (to put it midly). I reread it a few times, and realized that although first season Sam was a bit short tempered and bold, I went too far with him. I humbly apologize for that, and have addressed it in this chapter. I've toned Sam down, and will do my best to keep him the loveable guy we all know and love._

_Also, don't be upset by the violence involving the children. All is not what it appears._

**A Mother's Love**

Dean's jealous green eyes watched his beloved Impala drove away with Sam at the wheel. It's not that Sam hadn't driven the car before, but it was the first time he'd taken it without Dean safely guarding her from the passenger seat.

Dean had given Sam a laundry list of specific instructions on how to properly care for his car during his absence. It didn't matter that he'd only be away from it for a few hours; a lot can happen in that time.

"Crap!" Dean exclaimed, fumbling for his cell phone. He'd forgotten the most important rule! He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Sam to answer.

_"What, Dean?"_

"Dude, don't park near a tree! I just washed her a few days ago." Dean tugged on the zipper of his jacket as the brisk wind went through his thin hospital scrubs.

_"Too late. I've already painted a bull's-eye on the roof. Then I'm going to dump a bucket of worms all over the hood."_

Dean's voice was as tight as the death grip he had on his phone. "Sam, I'm not kidding! If there's even a speck of bird shit on her--"

_"I'm a dead man. Yeah, I got it. Look, I gotta go. There's a huge pothole I need to run over."_

"Sam. Sam. Sam!" A sharp click indicated Sam had ended the call. The loud drone of the dial tone rang in Dean's ear, although he could swear he could hear his little brother's laugh mingling with the dial tone.

Dean stared at the cell phone a moment before hanging up. With a shake of his head, he jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, his left hand making a fist in the empty place where his keys should be. "I'm going to kill that kid." he muttered as he walked into Trinity General Hospital.

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Sam hung up the phone and chuckled. It was wrong to tease Dean about his beloved Impala, yet it was oh so right. He was sure he'd pay for it later, but it would be worth it.

Sam checked his map one more time, then turned onto East Oak Road. It was a very fitting name, as the large oak trees surrounding the cul de sac seemed to outnumber the houses fifty to one. It seemed as though the cluster of homes had been dropped from the sky and landed among the densely packed trees. While it was simply beautiful during the daytime, Sam had a feeling it would feel a bit menacing during the night.

Sam doubled checked the house numbers, although it was fairly easy to see which one belonged to the Donovans. While the other five houses all showed various signs of life, from kids playing on the lawn to fathers doing yard work, the house on the end was quiet. Every curtain on the two story cape was closed, the front door shut.

After parking the Chevy in a relatively tree-free zone, Sam grabbed a badge of out the glove compartment. He got out of the car and self-consciously straightened out the few remaining wrinkles from his tan State Police uniform. Ignoring the curious stares from the neighbors, Sam sauntered up the steps to the Donovan's front door.

His first attempt at the doorbell went unanswered, so he switched to some good old-fashioned pounding. Sam loudly announced his presence and took a step back. Less than a minute later the door was opened by a tired looking man in jeans and a red sweater.

"Officer Darrow, State Police." Sam identified himself with a quick flash of his badge. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Donovan, but I need to ask you a few questions."

Mr. Donovan ran a hand through his dark hair. "The State Police is involved now? Fantastic." he said woodenly. While he did open the door a bit wider, he made no move to allow Sam inside.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Donovan. I promise this won't take long." Sam shifted his eyes down to the tiny hand that had appeared from behind Mr. Donovan's left arm. A second later a head peeked out, big blue eyes shining curiously from under a mane of long blonde hair.

Sam smiled at the young girl. "Hi. You must be Jenna."

The little girl shrunk back out of sight. Mr. Donovan sighed apologetically. "Don't take it personally. She's seen way too many uniforms lately." He paused for a beat. "She's seen way too much of everything lately."

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other and awkwardly cleared his throat. He wanted nothing more than to leave this poor family in peace. But he had a job to do, and as he'd learned way too early in life, the job came before everything else. One of his father's many mantras echoed in his memory: _We're in the business of saving lives, not feelings._

"Mr. Donovan--" Sam began.

Mr. Donovan held up a hand, cutting Sam off. "I know, I know." He took a step back, gesturing Sam inside. "Come on in."

The sweet sound of music greeted Sam as he walked through the doorway. Sam's keen eyes took in every detail of his surroundings as he followed Mr. Donovan and his daughter through the house. Just before he entered the kitchen, he found the source of the beautiful music. A little blonde boy knelt precariously on a small stool in front of an upright piano. His little hands moved slowly across the keys, eliciting a sweet but melancholy melody.

Sam stood transfixed. His stomach twisted painfully when he saw the white bandages covering the child's arms. Mr. Donovan came up beside Sam, confirming what he'd already known.

"That's my son, Stevie. He's been practically glued to that piano ever since…" Mr. Donovan's voice trailed off sadly.

"He's amazing." Sam said, still in awe of the boy's talent. "I can't believe he's only four years old."

Mr. Donovan nodded. "Here's the funny part. He's never taken one piano lesson." He gave a small smile at Sam's surprised look. "Jenna's been taking lessons for a few years. Either she's been showing him some things, or he's just self taught."

Stevie kept playing as though he had no indication that he was being watched. Sam smiled at Mr. Donovan. "Looks like you've got a child prodigy on your hands."

Mr. Donovan stared at his son, his eyes slowly welling up with tears. He choked out a soft agreement as a tear slipped down his cheek. Seemingly embarrassed, he quickly turned away from Sam and walked into the kitchen.

"Come on. Let's get this over with."

Sam took one last look at little Stevie before joining Mr. Donovan. His heart ached for the family. His only solace was that somehow he and Dean could prevent another family from going through the same hell.

Sam sat across from Mr. Donovan, who had taken his place at the head of the kitchen table. Sam pulled out a small notepad and began with the usual inquires.

"Did your wife exhibit any behavioral changes prior to the attack? Mood swings, bad dreams?"

Mr. Donovan rolled his eyes. "I've been over this before."

"Please, bear with me." Sam glanced down at his notes. "Did your wife give any indication why she would attack your son? Had there been an argument? Some other situation that might've lead to the attack?"

Sam's questions were met with the same irritated rolling of the eyes. "No. For the thousandth time, I have no idea why she would go after our son." Mr. Donovan's tone became increasingly agitated. The only thing Sam was accomplishing was pushing an already tense man closer to the edge. If he didn't speed things up, he would lose any chance at getting the answers he needed.

Sam changed his tactic. He mentally put away the police persona and allowed the hunter to take over. "I'm going to be straight with you, Mr. Donovan. This might seem a bit bizarre, but it's vital that you take this seriously." Sam took a deep breath and prepared to lay the absurd out on the table. "Are you familiar with Wendy Lanigan?" At Mr. Donovan's tentative affirmative, Sam continued. "Wendy said she saw a ghost a few weeks before she killed her daughter. Did your wife describe anything of the sort? Or perhaps a disembodied voice?"

Mr. Donovan slowly sat back in his chair. His right hand shook slightly as he wiped it across his pale face. Sam sat forward in his chair and waited for him to speak. After a few tense seconds both men jumped in their chairs as a tiny voice broke the silence.

"Daddy? I wanna watch tv."

Sam closed his eyes in frustration. When he reopened them, he saw that Jenna had joined them in the kitchen. Although her tiny hand was on her father's arm, her sharp blue eyes were on Sam.

Mr. Donovan drew her in close and placed a tender kiss on the top of her head. "Go ahead, sweetheart."

"But Stevie won't stop playing the piano." Jenna whined, her eyes still on the newcomer.

"You tell him I said it's time to stop. Just give me a few more minutes, and then maybe we can play with some Play-Doh. Ok?" Mr. Donovan pulled her long blonde hair back away from her face and turned her towards him.

Jenna gave her father an unreadable look and nodded. With one final glance at Sam, she jogged out of the kitchen.

Sam gave Mr. Donovan a moment to rest in his thoughts, then cleared his throat. "So, Mr. Donovan. You were saying about your wife?"

The loving smile Mr. Donovan had sported as he'd watched his daughter leave turned into a frown as Sam brought him back to the matter at hand.

"Officer Darrow, there's no such thing as ghosts." Mr. Donovan said.

Although his words held a confidence to them, Mr. Donovan's eyes beheld an uncertainty. Sam pushed a little harder.

"Look. In less than three months, two women in the same small town have attacked their children. I'm sorry, but that's no coincidence. I need to know all of the facts so we can not only help your wife, but maybe save someone else from getting hurt."

Mr. Donovan squirmed in his chair, still not meeting Sam's gaze. Sam scraped his chair forward. The sudden noise pulled the other man's eyes up. Sam stared hard into them as he delivered his last plea.

"Mr. Donovan, please. Tell me what your wife saw."

Mr. Donovan opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a loud cry. The piano music that had been filling the air cut off abruptly. A loud thump sounded, followed by a low howl that escalated into a gut wrenching sob.

Sam sat back in his chair and sighed in exasperation. Once again the moment was ruined. Mr. Donovan muttered an apology and went into the living room to play referee, and perhaps medic, to his children.

Sam thumped his fist onto the table. Mr. Donovan definitely knew something, but every time Sam was about to learn what secrets the man held, he was interrupted. Sam pulled out his cell phone to see if Dean was having any better luck.

"_Doctor Dean, at your service."_

"Hey. How's it going on your end?" Sam got up and stood at the far end of the kitchen to better speak in private.

"_It's been better. You know, hospitals aren't like they show on tv. There wasn't one hot nurse in the entire hospital!"_

"Dean, you know what I mean. Did you get in to see Wendy?" Sam's supply of patience had been depleted, and he was in no mood to play Dean's game.

"_Geez, Sammy. What crawled up your butt?"_

Sam took a few breaths to calm himself down. He had been acting out of sorts the last few days, allowing the stress he'd been under to get the better of him. After sincerely apologizing, he once again posed his question to Dean, who smugly began to tell his tale.

"_Actually, I was just about to call you. I talked to Wendy and found out some interesting details on our not-so-friendly neighborhood ghost."_

Sam tightened his grip on the phone. "Did you get a name?" he asked excitedly.

"_Not quite. Come pick me up and I'll fill you in."_

Sam glanced around to make sure he was still alone in the kitchen before responding. "I'm not quite finished here yet. I'll come get you when I'm done."

"_Well, how long will that be?"_

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I have a feeling Elaine saw the ghost, too, but every time I try to get her husband to confirm it, we get interrupted."

"_So what am I supposed to do until you get here? Sit here with my thumb up my ass?"_

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. He could go so many places with that comment. But given the attitude he'd been unfairly dumping on his older brother, he decided to take the high ground. "Dean, the motel's only about a mile away." Sam snapped his fingers as recollection hit. "Actually, I think I passed a library about a block down from the hospital. Why don't you go see what you can dig up on the ghost? I'll pick you up when I'm done."

Sam grinned as he listened to Dean's heavy breathing. He could practically see his older brother pacing, in front of the hospital, struggling to keep his impatience in check.

"_Fine, but hurry up. I think I'm going through Impala withdrawl."_

Sam shook his head and chuckled. "Bye, Dean."

Still chuckling, Sam turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time in less than a ten minutes. Jenna Donovan stood barely three feet away, staring silently up at him.

Sam took a step back, his hand at his stomach. "Jenna! You scared the shi…, the heck out of me!" He glanced around the room. "Where's your daddy?"

"In with Stevie. He fell off the stool." Jenna answered, her little arms folded across her chest. She continued to stare distrustfully at Sam.

Sam quirked his mouth into a knowing half smile. "Did he fall off, or was he pushed off?" Having himself been the victim of a tv-obsessed older brother, Sam recognized the signs of remote control violence.

Jenna guiltily looked away. Sam smiled down at her. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

Jenna returned his gaze with the beginnings of a smile, then shifted her blue eyes upwards. "That hat makes your head look funny."

Sam's smile morphed into a full out grin. He knelt down in front of Jenna and placed the tan hat on her head. "Now it makes _your_ head look funny." He laughed as the large hat dropped halfway down her face.

The little girl pushed the hat upwards and giggled. "Your's looks funnier. Your hair's too long."

Sam laughed and self-consciously ran a hand through his dark hair. "So I've been told."

Her little hands still gripping the hat, she once again focused her intense blue eyes onto Sam. "You know about Mommy's ghost?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. Sam checked again to make sure Mr. Donovan wasn't coming back into the kitchen. Reassured he was alone with the girl, he proceeded cautiously. "What do you mean, Jenna?"

"I heard you on the phone. You were talking to some guy named Dean about ghosts." Jenna began to seesaw the hat back and forth on her head, covering her eyes and uncovering them.

Sam eased the hat out of her hand and placed it on the floor. "Did your mommy see a ghost, Jenna?"

"Uh huh. She told my daddy, but he didn't believe her. I did, though." Jenna answered.

Sam's heart beat excitedly. Although it was entirely possible Jenna had the answers he was seeking, the girl had just been through an enormously traumatic event. He didn't want to do or say anything that would cause her any further emotional damage.

"Can you tell me about it?" Sam placed his hands on his knees and leaned slightly towards Jenna.

"Mommy tried to tell Daddy, but he wouldn't listen. But she was right! The ghost was only trying to help us." Jenna's lower lip began to quiver. Her voice got higher as tears filled her eyes. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't stopped her, maybe he'd be back."

Sam cocked his head to the side, confused. "Stopped who? Your mommy? Jenna, you did a very brave thing. You saved your brother's life!"

Big crocodile tears streamed down Jenna's face. She began to cry, hiccupping out her words in between sobs. "No! It's all my fault! The boogeyman took him, and he's never coming back!"

"Sweetie, don't cry! It's ok. Stevie's fine! He's in the other room." Sam tried his best to quiet the distressed girl. He awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder and began to wipe away her tears. Just then, Mr. Donovan reentered the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on here?" Rushing forward, Mr. Donovan scooped up his daughter and held her head against his shoulder as she contnued to sob. His face was almost as red as his sweater as he seethed at an uncomfortable Sam. "What the hell did you do?"

Sam stood up and held up his hands, palms outward. "Mr. Donovan, I'm so sorry. She was talking about her mother, and she got upset. I didn't mean to—"

Mr. Donovan pointed towards the door. "I think you'd better leave. Now."

Sam mentally kicked himself. He'd have been better off having Dean conduct the interview. Although he could be impatient and tactless, at least Dean had never made a little girl cry. Feeling worse than he ever thought possible, Sam stammered out another apology.

Jenna had stopped crying, and had her head turned to the side on her father's shoulder, watching Sam as he snatched his notepad off of the table. He hastily scribbled his phone number on a sheet of paper and placed it on the table in the hope that once he'd calmed down, Mr. Donovan might finally divulge his wife's secrets.

"Call me if you need anything." he mumbled as he backed out of the kitchen. Mr. Donovan rubbed his daughter's back in comforting circles and whispered soothing words as the little girl craned her head to follow Sam's exit.

As he passed the entryway to the living room, the piano music began again. Sam paused and glanced into the living room. Just as suddenly as he'd begun, Stevie stopped playing. He turned around on the stool and stared at Sam.

There was no denying the fact that the two children were siblings. However, while the four year old shared the same tow headed complexion as his sister, Stevie's blue eyes held none of the curiousness and passion as Jenna's had. His large sapphire eyes bored into Sam with a frosty bitterness that sent a chill down the hunter's spine. Sam was only able to endure the child's cold gaze for a few seconds. Shaking off the sudden chill that had befallen him, Sam backed away and continued to make his way out of the house.

Sam walked down to the Impala and stood beside it. He jiggled the keys in his hand as Jenna's words echoing in his mind. _"No! It's my fault! Stevie's gone, and he's never coming back!" _Sam tried to make sense of it all, but came up empty. He tried to convince himself it was nothing more than the ramblings of a traumatized child, and did his best to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach as he looked back at the house.

Sam shook his head in frustration and reached for the door handle.

"Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed.

Apparently a bird had decided to chime in on it's opinion of Sam's interviewing skills by leaving it's mark right above the lock. He took a step back and groaned. "You've got to be kidding me!"

The shiny black car was polka dotted in bird droppings. There wasn't one part of the car that was spared. Even the left rear tire had been targeted.

"Well that's just perfect." Sam groused as he got behind the wheel. The disastrous meeting with the Donovans was set to the back of his mind as he focused on his newest mission: finding a carwash. Fast.

_So, hopefully this chapter will put Sammy(and myself!) back on track. Let me know what you think...it's the only way I'll know what's working and what isn't. Thanks!!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks so much for the incredible reviews...they mean so much! I'd write more, but I'm still a bit numb from last night's episode. Sammy!! _

_Anyways, I hope you enjoy part four!_

**A Mother's Love**

Dean paced nervously in front of the Trinity Public Library. In just a matter of minutes he would be reunited with his beloved Impala. Despite Sam's assurance that the car was in tip top shape, there'd been a strange quality to Sam's voice that had caused Dean's stomach to twist into painful knots. He'd trust Sam with his life, but his car….well, that was an entirely different story!

Dean stopped pacing as his ears picked up the familiar roar of the Chevy's engine. "That's it. Come to Daddy." he muttered. As ordered, the shiny black car turned the corner and came to a stop in front of the library.

Dean darted down the library steps and stood on the curb, his hand touching the hood before Sam had fully stopped the car. Dean started at the front of the car and worked his way back. Bent at the waist, he checked for any new dings and dents. His face was so close to the car that if he'd wanted to, he could've laid a big fat kiss on the shiny metal. He ignored Sam's slightly nervous stare as he continued his careful inspection.

"Well?" Sam asked once Dean had straightened back up.

Dean held up a hand and bent to check the tires. Sam rolled his eyes, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Dean made one more pass around his car before giving a satisfied nod at his brother.

"She looks good. Now, give me the keys." Dean held out his hand.

Sam once again rolled his eyes as he tossed the keys over. "Yeah, and I'm the control freak."

"Shut up and get in. There's a diner down the road. Let's grab a bite, and you can fill me in on what you found out." Dean said as he opened the door. He slid behind the wheel and sighed. "It just feels so right."

"Dude, you were only apart for, like, an hour!" Sam said incredulously.

Dean ran his hands around the wheel. "Seems like a lifetime." He laughed at Sam's expression and headed for the diner.

Half an hour later Dean was digging hungrily into a big, juicy cheeseburger. "Say what you want about these tiny one horse towns, but they sure do cook up a mean burger." He took a swipe at the juices than ran down his chin.

"So are you going to tell me what you found out or not?" Sam asked impatiently, taking a sip of his soda.

Dean put down his burger and pulled a wrinkled wad of paper from his jacket pocket. "Right. So, we definitely have ourselves a ghost. Wendy said it appeared to her about two weeks before she, uh, you know." Dean broke off uncomfortably.

Sam looked down sadly. Neither one wanted to mentioned out loud the tragic end that had befallen the little girl. A death in any case is horrible, but when it's a child, it's almost too much to bear.

"Anyways, the ghost said her child was 'wrong'." Dean continued.

Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Wrong? Wrong how?"

Dean shrugged. "Somehow the ghost convinced Wendy that Becky really wasn't her child. Well, she really did have a daughter named Becky, but the girl wasn't her." Dean frowned. This wasn't coming out right. "Ok, what I mean is, it was her but it wasn't." Dean tried to come up with a clearer explanation, but his words came out all jumbled. Just as he began to sound like one half of the famous Who's on First? skit, Sam jumped in.

"You mean an imposter?" Sam asked, sounding more than a little confused.

Dean snapped his fingers. "Exactly. The ghost basically said the only way to get her real daughter back was to kill the imposter."

Sam sat back in the booth. "So, _that's_ what Jenna meant."

Now it was Dean's turn to look puzzled. "Huh?"

Sam shook his head and gestured for Dean to go on.

"So while you were out joyriding in my car, I headed over to the library to see what I could find out. Turns out this little town has quite the local legend." Dean paused to take another monster-sized bite of his burger. After washing it down with a swig of beer he continued. "Fifty years ago a woman named Hannah Eagan choked her ten year old son to death. Of course, she claimed she didn't really kill her son. She said it was a monster that had taken the place of her son, and that the only way she could get him back was to kill the monster." Dean raised his eyebrow. "Sound familiar?"

Sam's eyes had a faraway look as he processed the information. "And now it's happening all over again." Sam focused back onto Dean. "What happened to her?"

"She was killed by one of the locals before her trial even began. They say her dying plea was for someone to go and save her son from the 'monsters'." Dean made air quotes with his fingers as he said the last word.

Sam nodded his head appreciatively. "You found all this out in an hour? I'm impressed. I don't suppose you found out where she's buried?"

Dean shuffled through the copies he'd made at the library. He pulled out a copy of a newspaper article about the murder and handed it over to Sam.

"She was put in an unmarked grave in town. About ten years later her son had her exhumed and buried her on the family property. Want to guess where that might be?" Dean asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Sam put down the paper he'd been skimming. "Let me guess. A cabin in the woods." he answered dryly.

"How'd ya guess?" Dean said through a mouthful of fries. He was beginning to wonder if anyone was actually laid to rest in regular cemeteries anymore. It seemed anyone who was anyone was buried in a cornfield or in the woods.

"Great. Nothing like a little salt and burn in the woods to bring one closer to nature." Sam began to hand the paper back to Dean.

"Wait a minute." Sam said, pulling the paper back. "Her son? There were other kids?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, unless the kid came back from the dead a decade later, he must have had a brother. I don't know. I didn't get that far."

Sam's hazel eyes continued to devour the words. "There's no mention of a brother anywhere."

Dean snatched the paper back. "There was a brother, there wasn't a brother...it doesn't really matter. We know who the ghost is and where she's buried."

Sam bit his lip. "Maybe there's more to this than just a ghost."

"What do you mean?" Dean's eyes open wide as he realized where Sam was heading. "Oh, come on. Shape shifters?"

Sam set his shoulders defiantly. "It makes sense! Maybe Hannah was trying to warn Elaine and Wendy that the same thing that took her son also took their kids."

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam just had to make a conspiracy out of everything. "No one took her son, Sam. She was a crazy lady who killed her son, and has convinced two completely sane women to try and do the same. End of story."

"Or it could be something else entirely." Sam stubbornly retorted.

"Dude, it's a horse, not a zebra."

Now it was Sam's turn to stare wide-eyed across the table. "Excuse me?"

Dean quoted one of his father's favorite sayings. "When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras."

Sam folded his arms across his chest. "I know what it means, Dean." he snapped.

"Come on, we've got a simple haunting, and you're trying to turn it into a haunting with shape shifters and God knows what else." Dean softened his tone and did his best not to sound condescending. "Look, I did the research, and it's just a simple case of a whacked out person who is trying to cause even more havoc in death. And it's up to us to put a stop to her before anyone else is killed."

Sam seemed to accept Dean's words, although he still wore a slight pout. Time to change the subject. "What about you? What'd you find out at the Donovan's?" Dean gave the elderly waitress a polite nod as she laid the check on the table.

Sam took a sudden interest in his french fries, pushing them from one side of the plate to the other. "Not that much, actually."

Dean waited for Sam to elaborate, but the younger Winchester continued to play with his food.

"And...?" Dean prompted, gesturing for Sam to continue.

Sam lifted his head slightly but kept his eyes cast downward. "It seems that Elaine saw the ghost, too."

"So you got the husband to open up?" Dean asked, still not quite sure what was bugging Sam.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly."

For the next ten minutes Sam recounted every detail of his visit to the Donovan's, including the unfortunate tearful conclusion. At the end of the tale Sam's cheeks were pink with embarrassment while Dean's were flushed from holding in his laughter.

"You made a little girl cry? Dude, that is so wrong." Dean stifled a laugh behind the back of his hand.

Sam clenched his jaw but didn't respond. Dean was far from done. It was his right as a big brother to torment Sam as often as possible. It wasn't often material like this was just handed to him on a silver platter. Who was he to pass it up?

Dean leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially across the table. "Hey, here comes the waitress. Wanna trip her?"

"OK, enough!" Sam said loudly, eliciting a triumphant laugh from Dean.

"Sorry, man. It's just fun to see good ol' Sappy Sammy screw up for once." Dean continued to chuckle at Sam's sour expression.

"I didn't screw up." Sam countered hotly. "I confirmed that Elaine saw the ghost. Although..."

"Although what?"

Sam frowned. "Something Jenna said bothers me."

"Bothered _you_? You weren't the one bawling. For once." Dean cracked.

Sam gave no response to the teasing. Dean could see something was really bothering Sam, and he did his best to turn serious. Although part of being a big brother was relentless teasing the younger sibling, the larger part was trying to fix whatever might ail the kid, physically or emotionally. He apologized and pushed his plate to the side, giving Sam his undivided attention.

"Come on, Sam. Talk to me." Dean used the back of his hand to lightly smack Sam's forearm.

Sam finally looked at Dean. "What she said about her brother being gone. About the boogeyman taking him away. I don't know, man, it's just…" Sam trailed off, worry lines creased his forehead as his frown deepened.

Dean sighed. He hated seeing his little brother so troubled. "Sammy, she walked in on her mother trying to murder her little brother! It doesn't take a psychiatrist to see that the boogeyman represents her mom. And technically her little brother did go away; he'll never be the same after what he went through. Jenna's just trying to deal with something no child should ever see." Dean rationalized. Despite his best efforts, he could tell his words brought little comfort.

Sam still looked troubled. "Maybe. I don't know. Something about Stevie just didn't feel right."

And we're back to the shape shifter idea, Dean thought, resisting the urge to slap himself, or Sam, on the forehead. "His own mother stabbed him with a broken mirror! Of course he's not alright! That doesn't mean he's the creature from the black lagoon!"

Sam sullenly shoved what had to be an ice cold french fry into his mouth and mumbled an unintelligible response. It wasn't exactly a sign of submission; more like a temporary truce.

Dean grabbed the check and pulled out a wad of cash; the latest spoils of a successful poker night. After dropping several bills on the table he laid out their gameplan. "Ok, so here's what we'll do. First we get out of these costumes, then we head out and burn that bitch up. We'll stick around a few days just to make sure everything's back to normal; maybe swing by the Donovan's one more time. Sound good?"

"A few days? You really think you can last that long in a one bar town?" Sam's eyes began to get a bit of their mischievous sparkle back.

Dean gave a one shouldered shrug. "As long as the Thirsty Turtle has a steady supply of whiskey, I can handle almost anything."


	5. Chapter 5

_I know things have been moving a bit slow, but they'll start to pick up a bit in this chapter. Enjoy!_

**A Mother's Love**

Sam kept a steady pace behind his brother as they made their way through the thick Pennsylvania woods. He'd been a little worried they wouldn't be able to find their way to the Eagan cabin, but judging from the well-worn path they had found, the Winchesters were far from the only people to have visited the infamous site.

"How much further?" Sam panted. He was having a bit of a hard time keeping up with Dean. It's not that he was out of shape; far from it. It had more to do with the heavy pack he wore on his back, the bulging duffle bag that was slung over his shoulder, and the two shovels he was carrying.

"Shouldn't be too much further." Dean called back.

"Why do we need all this stuff, anyway?" Sam griped.

"Be prepared, Sammy. Be prepared." Dean answered in a sing-song voice.

Sam paused for a moment and readjusted the duffle bag to sit a bit higher on his shoulder. "Dude, how 'bout a hand here?"

Dean kept walking. He raised his right hand and waved the handwritten map the waitress at the diner had drawn for them . "No can do, Sammy. I'm the navigator, you're the mule." He laughed at his own cleverness. "Come on, Jackass!"

"Come on, man. I'm injured!" Sam aimed a guilt-trip arrow at his brother. Bringing up the gash he'd received from the Hook Man was a bit unfair, but so was making Sam carry all the gear.

Dean finally turned around, his eyebrow cocked. "That little scratch? You've got to be kidding?"

"Fine. Never mind." Sam fired arrow number two by making a big scene of fiddling with all of their equipment and scratching at the nearly-healed wound on his arm.

Dean sighed and walked back to pick up the shovel and bag that Sam had accidentally "dropped". Bullseye! Sam bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. Relieved of half his burden, Sam was ready to tackle the rest of the trail.

If only his inner burden was as easy to reconcile. He kept flashing back to Jenna's tear-stained face as she sought an absolution Sam could not give. He'd felt a strong connection to the little girl. Although she'd saved her brother's life, Sam still saw the guilt in her eyes from not being able to prevent her mother from attacking Stevie; a guilt Sam was all-too familiar with. By failing to save his girlfriend, Sam had forfeited not only her life, but the life they would've shared together.

Jessica had always wanted a whole slew of children. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, Jenna resembled the children that Sam and Jessica had dreamed of raising one day. Sam pushed the image away, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. He vowed to check up on Jenna before they left town, if only to ensure his own peace of mind.

Sam and Dean walked in silence for another half hour before Dean slowed to a stop. In the middle of a large clearing stood a dilapidated log cabin covered in graffiti. Veiled in shadows, even the sunlight seemed afraid to touch the dark structure.

"I think we've found it." Dean stated the obvious. He dropped his gear and walked towards the house. He took a peak inside the open doorway. "I'm gonna take a quick look inside."

Sam let his eyes wander, looking for signs of Hannah's grave. "Okay." he answered distractedly. He dropped his gear next to Dean's and began a perimeter sweep of the area.

The Eagan cabin was apparently quite the local hangout, judging from the amount of debris that littered the area. Sam stepped over an empty Doritos bag and continued to look for anything that might resemble a grave marker. After his second lap yielded no result, Sam headed to the cabin.

Ducking his head to enter through the low doorway, Sam nearly ran into Dean, who was just on his way out.

"Anything?" Dean carefully stepped down over the broken wooden step that led to the forest floor.

Sam shook his head. "You find anything in there?"

"Oh yeah. Julie loves Joey, we can give some chic named Nancy a call for a good time, and the Titans, which I'm assuming is the local football team, are number one." Dean laid a hand one of the support beams and leaned in close to read the tiny words written on the wood. "I stand corrected. Julie loves Joey _forever_."

"And judging from the amount of beer cans outside, apparently Trinity's beer of choice is Bud Light." Sam kicked an empty beer can that lay in his path.

Dean made a face. "There's no accounting for taste."

Sam checked his watch. They still had a few hours of daylight left; plenty of time, provided they could find the gravesite amongst the dozen or so acres the Eagans had owned. After a brief discussion, Dean went off to check the outskirts of the clearing while Sam began a more thorough search near the cabin.

Half an hour later the hunters had uncovered several abandoned fire pits and a few pet grave markers, but had found no trace of Hannah Eagan's grave. Frustrated, Sam kicked a stone at a large tree.

"Anything?" Sam called over to Dean.

Dean's head was down, his green eyes scanning the moss covered ground. "Yeah, Sam. I found it a while ago. I'm just having so much fun out here with the mosquitoes I figured I'd keep it to myself." He took an angry swipe at the swarm of bugs hovering around his head and glared at Sam.

"Ease up on the gel and maybe they'd leave you alone." Sam shot back.

Sam had nearly made his way to the southwest corner of the house when a flash of red caught his eye. Bending down, he brushed away the foliage to uncover a small wooden cross. Sam knelt on the ground and ran his hand across the face of the cross. A crooked red heart had been painted at the center, although time and the elements had stripped most of the paint away. Crudely etched above the heart were the words "Beloved Mother", with the word "Hannah" below it. A few specks of black paint remained on the words, but for the most part the wood was bare. Sam's fingers encountered a row of indented wood near the base of the cross. Squinting, he was barely able to read what had been scratched into the wood. "Love Michael".

Sam stood up and yelled for Dean to get the shovels. Moments later the eldest Winchester jogged over.

"You find some buried treasure, Sammy?" Dean grinned as he handed Sam a shovel.

"It's Sam, and yes, I found it." Sam grabbed the shovel a bit roughly. He took a step back to let Dean take a look at the handmade gravemarker. A gust of wind blew through the trees, whipping Sam's long hair around. As he brushed his bangs out of his eyes, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Keeping his hand up to shield him from the sudden wind, Sam turned and scanned the area.

"What're you looking for?"

Sam turned back to Dean, who had apparently noticed Sam's puzzling reaction. Sam looked back to where he thought he'd seen something, but all he could see for what seemed like miles were trees.

"Must've been a squirrel." Sam shrugged. Or more likely, it was a piece of garbage sailing on the wind to pollute some other part of the forest.

Dean followed Sam's eyeline before giving his brother a shake of his head. "Whatever. Come on. Let's get this over with before I need a transfusion." Dean griped, slapping at another pesky mosquito.

Sam and Dean began to dig, the latter whistling as they made their way through the soil. Sam took off his jacket and tossed it to the side. His head snapped up as he recognized the tune Dean had been whistling.

"Is that Deep in the Hole?"

Dean stopped whistling long enough to flash Sam a goofy grin, then resumed the song.

"You are such a dork." Sam laughed. He'd just placed the shovel back in the soil when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He snapped up to his full height and swiveled his head around. He had that ominous feeling they were being watched, but once again he saw no one. Not even a bird was there to keep them company. Even the bugs seemed to have abandoned them.

"Hey."

Sam jumped at Dean's voice. Still feeling as if they weren't alone, Sam barely paid him any mind and continued to survey the area.

"Did you hear anything?" Sam whispered.

"Only the sound of you not digging." Dean answered in the same hushed tones. Dean reached over and smacked Sam in the arm. "Hey! Playing crazy isn't going to get you out of digging." Dean said in his normal voice.

"Uh huh." Sam mumbled. He gave himself a shake. Maybe he was still on wendigo alert from their last trip into the woods. He did his best to ignore the eerie feeling and went back to digging.

Despite the hard, dry soil, the siblings made great progress. Dean's shovel hit a wooden surface after only going through about four feet of dirt.

"I win!" Dean tossed his shovel out of the hole and thrust a fist in the air. "It's all yours, Sammy."

"It's Sam." Sam tried to correct, but Dean had already scrambled out of the hole.

"Fine. It's all yours, Sam….my." Dean coughed the last syllable into his hand. Even the shovelful of dirt Sam tossed up at his knees couldn't dampen Dean's gleeful laughter.

The wooden coffin was uncovered in only a few minutes. Sam had reached down to pry open the lid when a loud noise stayed his hand.

"Please tell me you heard that." Sam backed up to get a better look at the cabin.

Dean was also looking at the rundown shack. "Uh huh. Could be a raccoon."

The words had barely left Dean's mouth when the sound of broken glass came from the cabin.

"Alright, you've had your fun. Show yourself!"

Neither brother dared to breathe. A chill went down Sam's spine. Both men were seasoned hunters. It would be nearly impossible for someone to sneak up on them without their knowledge.

Dean reached into one of the duffle bags and pulled out two shotguns. He tossed one down to Sam, then dropped the other bag into the hole.

"Finish up. I'm going to take a look around." Dean checked to make sure the rocksalt was loaded.

"Be careful." Sam said as Dean left his sight.

Sam moved the bag to the end of the coffin. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms a few times, then blew into his hands. The temperature had taken a sharp dip despite the warm sunshine. Strange sights and sounds coupled with a sudden chill in the air could only mean one thing. He had the sinking feeling Hannah Eagan was about to pay her houseguests a visit.

Sam pulled the salt and lighter fluid out of the duffle bag and placed them near the shotgun. He only hoped his could finish his task before something otherwordly decided to drop in.

Sam had just about managed to pry up one of the pine slabs when a shout from Dean made his heart skip a beat. Sam yelled his brother's name, but received no answer.

Shit.

Sam threw down the shovel and grabbed the shotgun. He clambered out of the grave and bolted towards the cabin. Sam's stomach clenched as he jumped over the broken steps. He ran inside just in time to see Dean sail through the air and slide bonelessly down the cabin wall.

_Five chapters in, I think I'm about due for a mini-cliffie! Besides, it just wouldn't be a Supernatural story without Dean getting tossed into a wall. lol_

_Love it? Hate it? Let me know!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for the delay in posting. Real life can be so annoying at times. Anyways, thank you again to everyone who has been so supportive. I truly appreciate it._

_I usually try to keep one point of view per chapter, but I had to switch back and forth a few times in the chapter in order to better serve the story (in my mind, anyway). I apologize for any confusion this may cause._

_Enjoy!_

**A Mother's Love**

"Dean!" Sam screamed at his motionless brother. He made it two strides closer to the prone man when a powerful force slammed into his chest, sending him back away from Dean.

Sam flew halfway across the room before gravity decided to reintroduce Sam to the floor. The air expelled from his lungs in a loud grunt as his body hit the ground, the back of his head cracking against the dirty hardwood floor. Sam coughed as he struggled to catch his breath. He stared up at the ceiling, seeing patches of blue sky through the rotting roof. He shut his eyes against the brightness as the pain from the impact began to set in.

An unearthly shriek brought Sam up to his elbows. The room swam dangerously as his battered brain tried to regain control of itself. Sam squinted his eyes at the advancing form of what he could only assume was the ghost of Hannah Eagan.

With her raven colored hair and dark eyes, she must have been quite the beauty in life. But as she snarled at Sam, her face twisted in rage, Sam saw only insanity and evil.

Sam tried to push himself to his feet, but his strength left him, and he fell back to the floor. As his head lolled to the side he saw his shotgun lying only a few feet away. Hannah was nearly upon him, her eyes flashing. Sam stretched his arm out as far as it would go and just managed to snag the barrel with his long fingers. In one swift motion he pulled the gun to him and fired a shot straight at the apparition. The rocksalt hit square in the center of her navy blue dress, and she disintegrated in a puff of smoke.

Sam gently dropped his head back to the floor and let out a groan. He squeezed his eyes shut and draped an arm across his face.

"Nice shootin', Tex."

Sam cracked open one eye and looked over at Dean, who was slowly getting to his feet. Sam managed to get himself into a seated position by the time Dean made his way over.

Dean held his shotgun in his right hand; his left was wrapped around his ribs. "You ok?" he asked tightly.

Sam decided he wasn't quite ready to answer that question. He made it to one knee and looked up at Dean. "Are you?" he countered.

"I'll let you know once we end this bitch." Dean growled. He reached down to help Sam to his feet. Sam shook off the help, not wanting to do further damage to Dean's injured ribs.

Sam felt his older brother's eyes on him, watching over him as he made his way to his feet. Once on his unsteady legs, Sam felt Dean's strong hand latch onto his arm. Sam stood completely still, using Dean as an anchor as he regained his sea legs.

"Come on." Sam said, pulling free of Dean's grasp. "She won't be gone long."

Sam took a deep breath and attempted to make his way out of the cabin. He could've sworn the room had been level, yet his first few steps felt like walking on a teeter totter. Feeling a bit like a tightrope walker, Sam held his arms out to help keep his balance.

"Dude, you forgot your gun." Dean grunted as he bent to pick up Sam's firearm.

"Sorry." Sam called back, not breaking his stride. He had just made it to the door. He didn't dare risk stopping or risk toppling over. Going down the two steps leading from the front porch was going to be a bitch.

Sam took a step past the doorway and warily looked out into the forest. It seemed as if Hannah hadn't been able to reform yet. If his luck held, he'd be able to make it to her grave and set it ablaze before she returned.

Sam stepped down onto the first step, completely forgetting about the broken stair. He cried out in surprise as his foot went through the broken wood. Off balance, Sam fell forward, his right knee twisting painfully as his body went where his leg would not allow.

Sam managed to catch himself on his hands and lower himself onto his hip. The native Chip and Dales got quite an earful as Sam let loose a string of curse words. With another cry of pain, he tugged his leg free just as Dean appeared in the doorway.

"Dammit, Sammy." Dean stepped down and knelt by his brother. "How bad?"

"It's fine." Sam said through gritted teeth. Between his head and his knee, he was in for one painful night. He could only imagine the mileage Dean would get out of this one; his little brother, felled by a broken step.

Dean had just began a careful examination of Sam's throbbing knee when his head shot up, his eyes wide.

"Shit!"

Hannah had reappeared and was glaring at them from the cabin doorway. Sam dropped down onto his elbows as Dean prepared to fire. Dean's first shot went wide, missing her by a hair's breadth. Hannah took advantage of the error. She moved faster than Sam could comprehend, smacking the weapon from Dean's hand and knocking him backwards.

Hannah grabbed Sam by the throat. Her icy fingers stole his breath away while her death grip wouldn't allow for air to pass through his lips. After dodging his wild punch, she leaned in close and spoke two raspy words.

"Help them!"

A loud crack cut through the air, and Hannah once again dissipated into wisps of smoke.

Sam coughed the air back into his lungs and ran his hand across his throat. At least each new injury took more focus off of the piercing pain in the back of his head.

Dean came into his line of sight and placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam clamped his hand over Dean's wrist and gave it a fierce squeeze, then pushed it away.

"Go, before she comes back!" Sam rasped.

Dean grabbed Sam under the arms and began to pull him up. "Come on, Sam. Up and at 'em!"

Sam tried to use his gangly limbs to get to his feet, but his right knee would not have it. A blast of fire traveled up his leg, and Sam instinctively pulled away from Dean. Both brothers yelled as Sam's sudden movement caused them further pain.

Back down on the earth, Sam grabbed onto his knee and cursed. Dean had fallen down to his knees and had one arm draped across his middle, while the other was braced against the ground. Unable to take a deep breath, the eldest hunter swore.

Sam looked over at Dean, blinking as his vision doubled. "Dean, I'll be fine! Just go!"

Dean hesitated a split second before placing a shotgun in his brother's hands. "Stay put, and stay alert." he ordered, and set a few rounds of rocksalt on the ground next to Sam's hip. He tossed his handkerchief in Sam's lap and pointed to the back of his own head. "You're bleeding. Keep pressure on it." He waited just long enough to make sure Sam complied, then took off towards the back of the house.

Dean pushed away his concern for his brother. Judging by the glassy look in Sam's eyes, he was willing to bet they were dealing with at the very least a slight concussion. He hated to leave his injured brother, but time was of the essence. He had a very limited window in which to salt and burn Hannah's remains before she came back for round three.

Dean resisted the urge to break into a run. He'd cracked a few of his ribs when he'd been thrown into the wall; just the simple tasks of walking and breathing were complete agony. Running was simply out of the question.

Dean had just reached the edge of the gravesite when he heard a twig crack. He whirled around and fired in the direction of the noise, biting his lip as the recoil slammed against his ribs. It was only after he lowered the gun that he realized he was still alone amongst the trees. Or was he? Another telltale snap made his heart beat faster.

He ignored the pain in his ribs and kept the gun up against his shoulder, turning in a slow circle. He vaguely registered Sam calling to him from the front of the cabin, probably concerned at the gunshot that had echoed through the forest. He refocused on his surroundings and continued to look for the source of the noise.

"Come on, where are you?" Dean muttered. A rustling of leaves answered back. Dean whipped around and fired, sending a flock of birds squawking into the air.

Dean lowered the gun in disgust. He took as deep a breath as his ribs would allow in an effort to calm his nerves. Hannah hadn't rematerialized yet, but she could show up again at any moment. He had to get moving.

Dean peered down into the grave. The good news was that Sam had fully uncovered the coffin. The bad news is that he hadn't pried it open. Dean sighed. A shot of whiskey would sure do the trick right about now.

Dean took one last look around, then lightly dropped down into the hole. He grabbed a shovel and began to pry away at the wooden slabs.

Dean had endured a lot in his years as a hunter, but nothing was as agonizing as his current task. He'd fallen into a red-hazed pattern; give the boards a mighty tug, fall against the edge of the grave as thousands of tiny knives rip at his middle, and wait until the pain recedes just enough to begin again. Just another torture-filled day on the job.

Several minutes later he had pulled up all but one of the boards. He leaned back against the dirt wall to catch his breath. Dean shivered despite the sweat running down his back. The temperature had taken a distinctive dive, and the air had a heavy quality. Dean heeded the warning signs that the ghost was on her way and pushed himself to finish.

Dean straddled the pine box and gripped the edge of the board. Due to the decent workmanship of the coffin and the pain from his cracked ribs, he was having a hard time dislodging the last part of the lid. Dean gritted his teeth and pulled with all his strength. The wood began to creak and groan, and Dean mentally willed the nails to let go.

"Dean?"

Dean let go with a gasp and fell back against the edge of the grave. "Son of a bitch!" He looked up to see an extremely pale Sam leaning against a tree. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"God!" Dean bent at the waist and let out a strange half groan, half gurgle. The pain in his ribs took second place as he prepared to deal with his pain in the ass little brother.

"I told you to stay put!" Dean yelled up at him. "Why am I surprised? Like you ever listen to a thing I say." _Or Dad, or Caleb, or Pastor Jim_, Dean finished mentally.

Dean's anger faded as he took in Sam's haggard state. The youngest Winchester looked as if he'd just finished running, or limping, a marathon. Considering his various injuries, the short distance from the front of the house to the back corner had probably seemed twice as long. Sam was doing his best to stay upright, using his shotgun to help keep himself propped against the tree.

"You...ok?" Sam asked haltingly.

Dean nodded. "Better than you, anyway. Keep your eyes peeled. I have a feeling our new friend's about to join the party."

Dean returned to his task, his stomach in knots. Normally he'd be confident having Sam watching his back, but right now his little brother looked like he couldn't handle a cockroach. Now he not only had to worry about his own hide, but Sam's as well.

Dean turned his attention to the final piece of wood that was blocking most of the corpse's upper body. He could hear the wind howling above him as he pulled with all his might.

Sam listened to Dean's pain filled curses with empathy and guilt. He hoped Dean could complete the job before Hannah decided to come back for round three. He felt a bit like a scarecrow guarding the field as he kept watch over Dean. Although, a scarecrow would probably be more useful in this situation. At least it had a brain. The way Sam felt, he wasn't so sure he could say the same.

Sam started to slide down the trunk as his rubbery left leg decided it was tired of pulling double duty. Sam gave in and decided a lower vantage point would probably be best. He eased himself to the ground, closing his eyes against the dizziness at the change in altitude. He reassumed sentry duty with the shot gun held parallel above his right leg which was stretched out in front of him.

"Gotcha!" Dean popped up like a jack-in-the-box as the pesky board finally gave way. Sam closed his eyes in relief. All that was left was to pour the salt and set the fire. He set the gun down and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"Got you, you son of a…whoa." Dean trailed off.

Sam sat forward and tried to see into the grave. "Dean?"

"Time has not been her friend." Dean tossed his shovel up over the side of the grave and gave Sam a lop-sided grin before dropping out of sight.

A huge gust of wind came out of nowhere, blowing with such force that Sam could barely catch his breath. The next thing he knew he was staring into the ghastly face of Hannah Eagan. He was pinned against the tree, her hands once again at his throat. He was able to draw in enough air to croak his brother's name while struggling to reach his weapon. His hand had just grazed the barrel when Hannah grabbed the gun and flung it away. She slammed him back against the tree, then abruptly released him. Fireworks exploded in his vision as the back of his head smacked against the trunk.

"Help them!" Hannah pleaded, a tear slipping down her cheek. She backed off as Sam fought to remain conscious. "Bring them home."

Hannah threw her head back and let out a scream full of pain and despair. A sea of tiny flames appeared all over her body and quickly joined together to engulf her in a raging fire. She fell to her knees and was gone, swept away by the wind.

Sam blinked, trying to sort of what the hell had just happened. A frantic call from Dean snapped him out of his haze.

"Sam! A little help here!"

Sam's jaw dropped in horror. Hannah's grave was ablaze…with Dean still inside!

"Dean!" Sam jumped to his feet and managed to go several steps before his knee gave out. Crawling on hands and knee, his bad leg dragging behind, he scrambled to the edge of the hole and snagged Dean's outstretched arm. The back of Dean's jacket was decorated with orange flames that eagerly headed towards his head. Sam took a deep breath and pulled for all he was worth. Dean let out a bloodcurdling yell as he was pulled from the burning pit; whether it was from the fire or his ribs, Sam didn't know. Sam heard his own voice join his brother's as the world went grey.

Sam's next sensation was lying on the cool earth, his lungs burning as they eagerly gulped in the clean forest air. He turned his head to the left and saw a dirty and smoky Dean staring back at him. His older brother was curled in a fetal position, his smoldering jacket in a heap a few feet away.

Sam turned to his side and leaned over his brother, carefully running his hand a few inches above Dean's back. While the back of his green buttondown shift was littered with black rimmed holes, the darker green shirt he wore underneath seemed intact. "Are you alright?"

Dean shook his head. He looked up at Sam, his green eyes flashing. "You damn near tore me in two!" Dean winced and moved his arms tighter around his middle.

Sam did one final check to make sure none of the flames had done any damage. Convinced that Dean hadn't been burned, he sat back. His right let stretched out in front of him, he bent his left leg and put his elbow on his knee, propping his aching head in his hand.

"What the hell happened?" Sam couldn't figure how Dean had ended up in the fiery grave when he'd been the one being attacked by the ghost.

Dean continued to look angry, but a tiny bit of embarrassment tinged his expression. "You were being attacked. _Again._ I didn't have time…" Dean trailed off and averted his gaze.

Sam's eyes opened wide as comprehension set in. He knew he was the one with the head injury, but come on! Even Dean couldn't be that reckless and stupid. Could he? "You set the fire while you were still in the grave?"

Dean's silence spoke volumes. The older hunter shut his eyes and let out a shallow sigh. Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing, or rather, not hearing. He lifted his head out of his hand and gaped at Dean. "What the hell is wrong with you? You could've been killed! How the hell could you do something that stupid!?"

Dean opened his eyes. With a great deal of effort he shifted to a seated position. "It's not like I had a lot of time to think! She was killing you, Sam!" He shifted his shoulders, seemingly uncomfortable under Sam's intense stare. "You try climbing out of a grave with broken ribs. It ain't as easy as it looks!"

Dean moved on from embarrassment and gave indignation a try. "It worked, didn't it? She's toast. Problem solved."

Sam looked at the flames playing peekaboo from the grave. The spirit of Hannah Eagan had been put to rest, but the apparition's final mysterious pleas left Sam's stomach in knots. But before he could devote time to that mystery, there was one more matter to attend to.

Sam looked down at his swollen knee, then shifted his blurry gaze to his brother. "We've got another problem, Dean. How are we going to get back to the car?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up as he looked from Sam down to his damaged ribs. "Oh crap."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean Winchester had two things on his mind as he followed Sam through the ever darkening forest. His main concern was making sure the two of them got back to the car before sunset. The second was how much his younger brother currently resembled a drunken calf. Sam had already taken several nosedives due to his knee and head injuries, and it looked like he was about to take another.

Dean's breath caught in his throat as a wobbly Sam lurched off balance. Dean was sure he'd tumble to the ground, but at the last second Sam was able to grab onto a low hanging branch. Dean cursed as he watched Sam brace himself against the tree. What he wouldn't give for one more round with that rotted whore Hannah Eagan. It was bad enough getting his ass kicked by a broad, even a dead one, but for the pain she'd inflicted on Sammy...

Concern for his unnervingly still brother bested his anger, and he pushed away his vengeful thoughts. Hell had her now, and she would be punished for her sins for all of eternity.

Dean walked over and placed his hand on Sam's back. Still clinging to the branch, Sam's forehead rested on his arm. Dean took the opportunity to check the wound on the back of Sam's head. A small amount of blood still oozed from the large lump near Sam's skull.

Sam raised his head slightly at Dean's careful touch. "I'm fine." Sam said wearily.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Really." Although the hazel eyes that stared up at him were equal in size, Dean had no doubt that a slight concussion was hiding behind them.

Sam glanced at an unconvinced Dean, then lowered his head back onto his arm. After a few deep breaths he stood up straight, his right hand still gripping the branch. "At least I can breathe."

Keeping his back vertical, Dean bent at the knees to retrieve the branch Sam had been using as a walking stick. A sharp pain hit him as his cracked ribs reacted to the movement. "At least I can walk." Dean shot back, stifling a groan.

Sam reached for the stick, but Dean held it out of reach, shaking his head. "Uh uh. Break time." Dean held up his palm, silencing Sam's insistence that they keep moving. "That tree is the only thing keeping you from falling onto your face. You pass out, I am not dragging your flat ass back through the woods. Now sit down before you fall over."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I said I'm fine. I don't need a break, and I'm not going to pass out."

The mighty Taurus rears it's obstinate head yet again. It was times like these that Dean couldn't help but wonder if he'd let his stubborn little brother watch too much Monty Python when they were kids. Sam was only a few limbs and a British accent away from becoming the Black Knight.

"Sam, you have a sprained knee and, more than likely, a concussion. We are taking a break. Now."

Dean's stern tone may not have resonated with Sam, but it sure seemed to scare the local wildlife. The audience of robins and squirrels made a hasty retreat as the two brothers continued to argue. Dean had gotten nowhere with his high-handed approach and was ready to resort to begging when a shrill ring sounded. Sam shot Dean one last look as he searched for his ringing cell phone. He threw in one final comment as he pulled out the phone.

"I do not have a flat ass."

Dean rolled his eyes and bit back a retort as Sam answered the phone. He walked over and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist. Knowing a preoccupied Sam would put up less of a fight, Dean used the distraction of the phone call to ease Sam down to the ground.

"Jenna? Is that you? Jenna. Jenna, honey, slow down. I can't understand you." Sam didn't even seem to notice Dean's sneaky maneuver. He allowed Dean to lower him down and lean him back against a tree as he focused on the urgent call.

Dean sat next to Sam, groaning in relief as he slipped the backpack off his shoulders. They'd abandoned the shovels and most of their heavy gear, taking only their guns and ammo back with them. On a normal day he could carry one hundred times the amount he was currently lugging. But, as the dull ache in his middle reminded him, this was no ordinary day. He leaned back against the large oak and tuned in to Sam's conversation.

"Jenna, slow down. What did you see?" Sam pushed the phone hard against his ear and stared down at the ground. He was silent for a few seconds, listening intently. Suddenly his head shot up, and he looked worriedly at Dean. "Did it hurt you?"

Dean fully turned towards Sam as his mind quickly processed what he'd heard. Jenna was the Donovan's little girl, the one who's saved her brother from being killed by their mom. Had something else happened? Something was obviously bothering her, but what? While Sam's last question had definitely gotten his attention, it was the pronoun that made the hunter really take notice.

_"It"._

Dean got into Sam's eyeline and mouthed the word, "What?" Sam shook his head and held up his finger, wordlessly telling Dean to wait.

"Jenna, does your daddy know you're on the phone?" Sam bit his lip as he listened to the answer. "Ok, I want you to put the phone down and go get him. I promise I'll stay on the line."

Sam put a hand over the end of the cell phone. "Jenna says the thing that took her brother just came for her. She saw it crawling in through her bedroom window. She screamed, and the thing went back out the window just before her dad came in her room."

Dean nodded his head knowingly. A dream. That poor little girl was going to need some serious therapy to deal with what she'd gone through. He shook his head sadly. "Poor kid."

Sam continued in a low voice. "Her dad doesn't believe her. Said it was just a nightmare."

"Considering what she went through, it definitely won't be her last." Dean's blood boiled. One child dead, another nearly lost his life, and a third scarred for life all due to some insane forest-dwelling psychopath. If there was any justice in the world, Hannah Eagan would burn in hell for all eternity. Even that was getting off lightly for all the pain she'd caused.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, then abruptly pulled his hand away from the phone.

"Mr. Donovan? Hello, this is Officer Darrow. Yes, your daughter called me about a possible disturbance….Mmmhmm….Is she alright?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, then widely reopening them . He blinked a few times as he continued. "I'm still in the area, Mr. Donovan. Maybe I should drop by...I understand you believe it was just a nightmare, I just thought with what your wife saw….yes, I remember what happened last time, I just wanted….Yes, sir, I understand, but I think there's something...no...please, Mr. Donovan, if you'll just listen...Shit."

Sam shut his phone off and sighed. He dropped the phone in his lap and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. "Damn."

Dean laid his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. "He seemed pretty pissed."

"Yeah." Sam whispered, biting his lip.

"She'll be ok." Dean lied. He knew more than anyone what effect witnessing a horrific event can have on a child.

Sam bit his lower lip. "I don't know, Dean. She sounded really freaked out. She really believes she saw something in her room."

Understandable. Dean had witnessed the aftermath of Sam's many nightmares; had felt the heartbreak at not being able to chase the scary shadows away. Sam had only just met this girl, but he seemed to have developed a strong sense of protection towards her. Dean's heart ached for them both; for the normal life snatched away from young Jenna, and for the normal life Sam had just gotten a taste of before it was brutally ripped away.

Sam's judgement was being clouded by his emotions, not to mention the goose egg he now sported on the back of his skull. Dean tried to reason with him. "I get that you're worried, but it was just a bad dream. Remember when Dad came back all covered in blood from hunting that water wraith in Buffalo? You woke up screaming for nearly a week. You said the boogeyman was coming to take you away. Think about the hell Jenna's been through. Man, I'm surprised she can go to sleep at all."

Sam wouldn't be able to move on from this case unless he was sure Jenna was alright. Dean flicked on his flashlight and glanced at his watch. So much for making it back before dark.

"It's already after nine. By the time we get back to the car, head back to the motel, and get you stitched up it'll be close to midnight." Dean paused to make sure Sam was paying attention. The younger man was looking straight ahead, his hands turning the cell phone over and over. Dean reached down and gently pulled the phone away. Sam blinked dazedly and finally looked over at Dean.

Once he had Sam's full attention Dean continued. "First thing in the morning we'll head over there and see how she's doing, okay?" He flashed Sam what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "She'll be fine, Sam. Her father will take good care of her."

Sam turned away from Dean and leaned his head back against the tree, a deep frown visible from the light of Dean's flashlight. A sigh escaped his lips as he shut his eyes. "I guess."

Dean echoed his brother's movements with his own sigh. He dropped the flashlight in his lap and scrubbed his hands over his face. Their simple salt and burn had left them with numerous physical injuries, and some new emotional ones as well.

Dean let out his frustrations in a guttural growl which grew into a loud bellow that ripped at his ribs, but cleared his head. He could wallow later. Right now he had to get Sam out of the woods and back to the motel where he could properly take care of him.

Dean stiffly pushed away from the tree. "Come on, Sam. Time to move." He gave Sam's shoulder a slight nudge as he got up.

Sam's eyes opened, and he looked at Dean with confusion, his eyes slightly glazed. "Move?"

"Time to blow this pop stand." Dean said distractedly as he pulled another flashlight out of his backpack. He gritted his teeth as he slipped the pack over one arm, then crouched down in front of Sam. "Give me a hand here." he said over his shoulder. A few seconds later he felt the pack move slightly as Sam helped ease Dean's other arm through.

Once the pack was secured, Dean turned around and gave Sam an encouraging smile. "Your turn, Sammy. Up and at 'em." Dean reached out for Sam's arm.

Sam allowed Dean to take his arm, but made no move to get up. "We're leaving?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but lately I've had enough nature to last me a lifetime. Besides, if we stay out here any longer, I'm going to need a transfusion." Dean swatted at the cloud of bugs hovering above the brothers. Sam continued to stare at Dean blankly.

"Come on. The car's not far." Dean tried to pull Sam to his feet, but again was unable to get him to budge.

Sam pulled his arm free and began to lightly massage his temples. "Dude, my head's killing me. Go get the car and come pick me up."

Dean sat back on his heels, concerned but a bit amused by Sam's state of mind. "Sure thing, Sammy. I've always wanted to go off-roading in my magnificent, priceless classic car. I can probably remove those pesky sideview mirrors and take care of her suspension all in one blow."

"What?"

Dean shook his head at Sam's puzzled expression. Although it killed him to see his little brother hurt, a concussed Sam was at the very least entertaining.

Dean cast his flashlight about, illuminating the surrounding trees. "We're in the middle of the forest, remember?"

Sam blinked. "Oh. Right."

Dean shined the flashlight at Sam's chest, it's yellow glow lighting up Sam's pale face. "Think you can make it?"

Sam huffed out an unamused laugh. "Don't really have a choice." He grabbed his makeshift walking stick and began to push himself up.

Both men stifled sounds of pain as they worked to get Sam to his feet. Dean did his best to hold Sam steady as the younger man struggled to find balance on his left leg. It took some doing, but eventually he was able to take a few tentative steps.

Dean watched Sam stagger around in the glow of his flashlight. He was putting on quite a show in the glare of the spotlight, now closely resembling a drunken calf in the midst of an earthquake. The sight would've been funny had they not had nearly half a mile of forest between them and the Impala. "You need a hand?"

Sam limped over to Dean and took one of the flashlights. "I'm good." He aimed his light at Dean. "What about you?"

Dean self-consciously removed the arm that had been supporting his cracked ribs. "Ready when you are."

Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began walking away...in the wrong direction. Dean rolled his eyes and caught up to him. He walked up next to Sam and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Other way, Stretch."

"Oh."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you so much to everyone who's written such kind reviews! They make me simply giddy. And to everyone who's silently following along, I hope you're enjoying the story! Now...enjoy!_

**A Mother's Love**

Sam had held on as long as he could, but he was fighting a losing battle. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, despite all his best efforts, his rebellious body was determined to complete the transition from sleeping to wakefulness. Even Mother Nature had turned against him, aiming a bright beam of sunlight onto his tightly shut eyelids. It was Sam's bladder that delivered the final blow. He received the message loud and clear. If he didn't get out of bed and take care of business soon, he'd lose a lot more than sleep.

Sam surrendered and raised his eyelids, squinting as the sunlight continued it's assault. He blocked the sun with his hand and turned his head to the right. "Ok, I'm up already!" he mumbled.

Sam's bleary eyes focused in on the bedside clock. 11:32? AM? How had he slept that late? And how had he ended up back at the motel? Sam rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. He remembered reaching the Impala after what seemed like an eternity traipsing through the woods. His next memory was seeing Dean's pinched face hovering above his, asking him the standard concussion test questions. He'd seemed pale, and more than a little worried, but after giving the proper answers Sam had fallen back asleep, too tired and sore to care.

Speaking of Dean…ok, he wasn't in his bed. In fact, it looked as if he'd never even gotten under the covers. Sam turned his head to the left and smiled as his hazel eyes landed on the still form of his older brother. Dean was fast asleep, sprawled in a hard-backed wooden chair next to Sam's bed. Dean's chin rested on his chest, his right arm wrapped around his middle as his left dangled limply.

Sam continued to stare fondly at his protector before his bladder sent him another not-so-friendly reminder that it was quickly losing patience. Sam heeded the warning and tried to pull himself up to lean against the headboard, but an unseen force was holding his right leg in place. Sam propped himself up on his elbows to see what was restraining him. A bubble of laughter worked it's way up, and Sam swallowed hard to not laugh out loud.

Dean had put Sam's right leg on top of, and in between, several pillows, and had strapped it to the bed with at least a dozen pieces of duct tape. Perched on top of his knee was a bag of ice that had long since melted. Bottles of water and aspirin were lying next to his leg, as was his father's journal. Dean had apparently spent the entire night watching over his sleeping sibling, finally succumbing to his own exhaustion. Sam was touched by everything Dean had done to take care of him, especially given the considerable amount of pain Dean had been in from his own injuries.

Sam took a deep breath and lurched upwards, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as the room swam at the sudden movement. Sam reached behind and fingered the lump on the back of his head. Dean's handiwork was evident there as well. Five expertly placed stitches sat atop the tender lump. His head still throbbed mercilessly, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd certainly had worse.

Sam slowly removed the duct tape, wincing as the tearing noise seemed as loud as a thunderstorm in the quiet room. He stripped off the last piece, pleased that he hadn't awakened Dean. He warily bent his right leg. There was some pain, but again, nothing he couldn't endure. The swelling had lessened considerably; maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

Sam swung his left leg off the bed and carefully maneuvered his right onto the floor. Using the headboard and the nightstand for support he raised himself up, keeping all his weight on his left leg. Sam squared his shoulders, let go of the headboard, took a step forward, and immediately fell to the floor as his pain in his right knee exploded.

Sam caught himself on his hands and left knee just before his face hit the musty beige carpet. He lowered his forehead to the ground and concentrated on his breathing until the pain began to subside. Once the pain was manageable he flipped himself over, making sure to keep his right leg straight, and leaned back against the nightstand.

"Sam?"

Sam could feel his face burn hot with embarrassment. He let out a self-pitying sigh and called out, "Down here, Dean."

A moment later Dean appeared at the foot of the bed. His right arm was still wrapped around his middle while his left hand rubbed the back of his neck. Dark circles rimmed his eyes as he blinked down at Sam.

"You ok?" Dean stiffly crouched in front of Sam. He reached out and grabbed Sam's chin, looking intently into the younger man's eyes.

Sam endured the scrutiny for a few seconds, then slapped his hand away. "I'm fine. Just thought I'd check out the view from down here."

Dean sat back on his haunches and nodded knowingly. "Uh huh. In other words, you were trying to go take a piss and fell flat on your face."

Sam sighed. This was turning into a swell morning. "Yeah, that's about right."

"Head or knee?" Dean's eyes flitted between the two injuries.

"Knee."

Sam put one arm on each bed and began hauling himself back onto his bed. Dean gave him as much assistance as his ribs would allow, then stood facing Sam.

He gave Sam a minute to rest, then held his hand out. "You ready for round two?"

Sam looked from the bed to the bathroom. Wordlessly he accepted Dean's arm and got to his feet. This time his leg was able to accept his weight, and he was able to limp to the bathroom without Dean's assistance.

After relieving himself, Sam checked out the damage Hannah had done to his throat. A ring of bruises ran along his throat like a colorful scarf. Sam decided it was time to invest in a turtlenecks. Now that he had been thrust back into the world of hunting, he had a feeling he would need it.

"So I did some research last night." Dean said from the other side of the bathroom door.

Sam zipped up and washed his hands. "On what?" he shouted over the running water. His heart beat a little faster. Did this have something to do with Jenna's so-called nightmare? The more time he'd had to think things over, the more convinced he was that Jenna had really encountered something supernatural the night before. Maybe Dean had come to the same conclusion. He could only hope Jenna's father had kept her safe through the night.

Sam opened the door and limped over to the bed where Dean sat with their father's journal splayed across his lap. Dean closed the book and laid it beside him. He looked up at Sam.

"I think I know a way to solve your problem." Dean paused dramatically. "I figure we have two options. One," Dean held up a finger, "we carry a large piece of plywood to lay over any stair we come upon."

Sam rolled his eyes. He'd known this was coming. He'd really put his foot in it, literally, when he'd stepped onto that broken stair at the Eagan cabin. Now he not only had to deal with the resulting sprain, but Dean's jokes, too. He sat down on his bed and prepared to endure his brother's mocking, knowing it was better for him in the long run to let Dean have his fun.

Dean raised his middle finger. "Two, we resort to piggyback rides. Now I say we go with the plywood, since I'm not exactly in the best shape to carry you around right now. Plus, you know, I have a reputation to protect and everything. I can't have people seeing me lugging around my gargantuan little brother. There's something a bit wrong about that, you know?"

Sam didn't respond. He figured Dean still had a little more in him. He was right.

"I'll give Caleb a call; see if he knows of any charms or talismans we can use to keep you safe from those dreaded steps. I mean, I'll do my best to keep you safe, but there's only one of me, and there's a whole world full of stairs." Dean leaned forward and whispered secretively. "Don't look now, but there are three steps right outside our room. It's ok; I don't think they know you're here."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean. "Done?"

Dean shook his head. "I blame myself." he continued as if Sam hadn't spoken. "I taught you how to walk, but apparently I didn't spend enough time teaching you how to navigate stairs." He raised his puppydog eyes and looked sadly at Sam. "I'm sorry I let you down, Sammy."

"The stair was broken, Dean." Sam defended himself hotly.

"So of course you decided to stick your foot in it." Dean shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"All right, enough!" Sam leaned forward and grabbed a bag off the bed, ignoring Dean's chuckles. He pulled out the first aid kit. "Shirt off."

Dean's smile faded. He gave Sam an uneasy look as he unbuttoned his shirt. Dean switched over to Sam's bed and pulled his t-shirt up as far as he could.

"Hold still." Sam ordered. He pulled Dean's shirt all the way up above his shoulders . He winced in sympathy as he took in the colorful bruising that decorated Dean's torso. "She got you good."

"You looked in the mirror lately? I don't know what messed you up more, that Hannah bitch or the evil broken stair. Hey!!" Dean yelled as Sam gave the bandages a sharp tug.

Sam smiled angelically. "They've gotta be tight, Dean."

Dean glared back but wisely kept his mouth shut through until Sam was done wrapping his ribs.

Sam finished up and put the kit away. "How's that feel?"

Dean lightly probed his ribs. "It fells like I got thrown into a freakin' wall."

Sam nodded sympathetically, then changed the subject. "It would probably be best if you distract Mr. Donovan while I sneak in to see Jenna. I don't think he'd be to keen on me talking to her again, especially since, well...you know." He still felt horrible about the tears she'd shed at their last encounter. But he only needed a little time with her, to make sure nothing else supernatural was going on. Only then could he walk away from the case.

Dean pulled his t-shirt down and grabbed his blue button down shirt. "You still want to go over there?"

Sam helped Dean get his shirt on as he spoke. "Dean, you didn't hear her. She was completely terrified. Something really scared her."

"Sam, she had a bad dream. What are you going to do, come running every time she has a nightmare?"

Sam pulled off his muddy shirt from the night before and rummaged through his bag for a clean one. "What if it wasn't?" Sam pulled a red shirt from the bag and slipped it on. "You can stay here if you want, but I'm going over there. I just can't shake the feeling there's something else going on here. Maybe something really is after the kids. If my inaction in any way brought harm to her..." Sam broke off and shook his head. "If there's any possibility something's after this child, I'm going to do everything in my power to save her."

Dean had a faraway look in his eyes, as if some distant memory was pushing it's way to the surface. He shook himself slightly and looked at Sam, a mixture of sadness and regret on his face.

Dean cleared his throat. "Ok, Sammy." he said huskily. "Let's go."

Sam sat stunned as Dean abruptly got up and grabbed his coat. Before he could question Dean's odd reaction, the older hunter stalked over to the door and yanked it open.

Dean turned back, his hand still on the door. "Look, I know you're not going to let this go until you see for yourself that she's fine. So, are you coming or not?"

Sam finished buttoning his shirt. "Uh, yeah." That was odd. He could usually read his brother like an open book, but he didn't quite know what to make of Dean's strange reaction. Maybe their years apart had changed their dynamic somehow. Whatever it was, they'd have to deal with it later. Normally Dean was first priority. But with Jenna's life possibly in danger, he had to focus on her right now. He made a mental note to finish this discussion at a later date.

Sam had almost gotten to the door when his knee began to buckle. Dean reached out and steadied his brother. His hand firmly around Sam's forearm, Dean guided Sam outside. Dean looked at the three steps leading from the motel down to the pavement. His worry lines smoothed out, and he grinned up at Sam.

"Oh, Sam…"

Sam yanked his arm free. "Bite me." Sam limped down the stairs, ignoring Dean's cackle as they got into the Impala. Dean was back to normal. Perfect.


	9. Chapter 9

_Ok, I know I promised the Jenna situation would be addressed here, but as I tweaked the chapter that I'd written ages ago, the darn thing just kept getting longer and longer! So instead of one gigantic Supersized chapter, I decided to split it into two normal sized chapters. I'm sorry!!! I blame Dean...he had a lot going on in that lovely head of his, and it all just had to get out. Sam will make his way into the Donovan house in the next chapter, which will be posted Tuesday night, Wednesday morning at the very latest. Again, I am so sorry!!!_

**A Mother's Love**

Dean yawned loudly and shifted in the driver's seat, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position. He'd spent nearly the entire night guarding over his sleeping brother, keeping an eye out for any complications from Sam's head injury and keeping his leg stable. Apparently Dean had underestimated his own weariness; despite the pain of the hard-backed wooden chair pressing into his damaged ribs, he had still managed to nod off around dawn. Thanks to his little catnap, he now had a stiff neck in addition to his cracked ribs.

Dean paused at a stop sign and carefully turned to check on Sam. Leaning against the passenger door, Sam's head rested in his right hand while his left thumbed through their father's journal. His hazel eyes stared at some point above the book, clearly not taking in any of the words.

Dean turned his attention back to the road. "Find anything yet?" Dean asked casually.

Sam continued to stare blankly ahead, doing his best "Dean in school" impersonation. His fingers tapped absently on the pages of the book, his mind clearly elsewhere. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was occupying Sam's thoughts. A pretty young blonde had drawn Sam's focus away from his book, just like his older brother had been similiarly distracted during his formative years. However, for Sam it was seven year old Jenna Donovan who had gotten in touch with his protective nature, whereas the women in Dean's fantasies had often touched…

Dean shook his head and brought his thoughts back to Sam. Playtime later.

"Sam." Still no response. Dean tried again, punching the accelerator to give the car, and it's withdrawn passenger, a little kick. "Sammy!!"

Sam's head shot up. "Mmm?" He looked from Dean down to the journal, then back to Dean again. "Sorry."

Dean raised his eyebrows. His touchy little brother had let a "Sammy" slide by, instead offering up his own apology? Dean frowned. He'd underestimated just how bothered Sam was with this whole Jenna-thing. He supposed he understood what Sam felt. Without warning a long buried memory broke forth, playing in disturbingly vivid detail in his mind.

_A tall cloaked figure hovering over a tiny figure in a motel bed. Sammy's innocent face bathed in an eerie glow as the creature prepares to feed. Himself, the heavy shotgun nearly slipping out of his sweat-slicked hands. He cocks the gun, then freezes as the creature hisses angrily. _

Dean gasped as he broke out of the flashback. He quickly looked over to see if Sam noticed his unplanned trip into the past, but the younger man had resumed his sullen stare out the window. Dean wiped his face with a shaky hand and looked over at Sam one more time, reassuring himself of Sam's presence.

"Don't worry, Sammy." Dean worked hard to sound reassuring, for both himself and for Sam. "We're almost there."

"It's Sam, and we'd already be there if you didn't drive like a freakin' grandma." Sam snapped.

Dean looked over in surprise. Whoa, mood swing! And had Sam really dared to comment on his driving? Sam's eyes flashed dangerously, and Dean swallowed his own anger. Sam was just itching to take his frustrations out on something, was reaching for anything that would take his mind off of his paranoid thoughts. Dean had perfected this strategy, and although he symapthied with his brother, Dean was not about to be prey to Sam's wrath.

Dean struggled to keep his voice neutral. "Just relax, ok? We'll be there in less than five minutes."

"We should've been there twelve hours ago. If we'd have just gone when she called me..." Sam seethed. "But no, God forbid we do anything that'll upset the mighty Dean Winchester's plans."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Getting our asses kicked by some psychotic ghost wasn't exactly in my day planner, Sam. Besides, you weren't exactly in the greatest shape last night. You could barely remember who you were last night, let alone take care of some kid."

Sam slouched down in his seat. He mumbled something under his breath that Dean wasn't quite able to catch, although the words, "…Dad were here" came across quite clearly.

Dean gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles looked like they would burst through the skin. "Sam…" he trailed off in warning. Sam had used up his freebies. If he really wanted to take this to the next level, Dean would meet him head on.

Dean glanced over to see which of the Sams he'd be finishing the drive with. Would it be the irate argumentative Sam, or the rueful, wistful Sam?

The latter personality took the forefront as Sam covered his face with his hands and meekly offered a muffled apology.

Despite Sam's contrite apology, Dean wasn't quite ready to let things go. This was the second time in two days Sam had pulled the Dad card, and he'd had it. "So you're going to throw Dad in my face every time you get pissed about something? Is that how it's going to be? Cause I've gotta tell you, Sam, I'm getting really sick of it."

"I said I'm sorry, ok?"

"Fine."

"Fine." Sam resumed his faraway stare, a worried frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, relieved to see the Donovan's street sign coming up on the left. He guided the Impala around the cul-de-sac and parked a few doors away from the Donovan's.

"Officer Darrow?" Dean asked, double-checking the identity Sam had used the day before.

Sam stared out the window at the large grey house. "Yeah." he answered distantly. His left leg began to bob up and down. "He was a lawyer."

"Uh huh. I figured it was something like that." Dean eased himself out of the car, amazed at how uncomfortable the short car ride had been. While she was the perfect car in every aspect, the Impala hadn't been able to soften the blows his ribs took every time her tires went over a dip in the road. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was relieved to step out of the car and onto the pavement.

The Impala's door squawked in protest as Dean closed it, as if she'd heard his hurtful musings. Dean instantly regretted his selfish thoughts. The old car had been through a bit of a rough time lately. She must have been terrified to have Sam at the wheel yesterday; the memory of the two of them careening through the Welch's rotted old house was probably still way too fresh. It certainly was for Dean.

The driver's side window was down, and Dean laid his hand on the door. "Come on, you're still my girl." he affectionately reached in and gave the leather a gentle caress. Dean sighed as the warm leather tickled his palm. If only everyone in his life were as easy to get along with.

Having appeased one cranky individual, Dean turned his attention to the other. He stuck his head into the car and watched, semi-amused as Sam's leg continued it's jittery bouncing.

"Yo, Thumper."

Sam finally tore his eyes away from the Donovan house. His leg stilled as he glowered silently at Dean.

Dean held up his palm. "Five minutes, ok?"

Sam darted his gaze from Dean to the house, then back again, his hazel eyes widening pointedly when they landed on his brother. Dean backed out of the car, but not before sternly repeating his last order. He pulled his fake police badge from his pocket and walked up the steps to the front door. With the driveway empty and the curtains drawn, Dean wasn't even sure anyone was around. He fervently hoped that the family was home, for his own sake as much as Sam's. Sam's doubts had begun to spill over onto Dean, the guilt from his own past mistakes making him nearly as edgy as Sam. Jenna was fine. She just had to be.

Mr. Donovan answered almost immediately to Dean's knock. A flip of the badge, a few authoritative words with just a hint of sympathy, and Dean was in. Following Mr. Donovan into the house, Dean flashed a quick look in the direction of the Impala, then shut the door.

_Again, my apologies for dragging things out a bit. Things'll definitely pick up in the next chapter...I promise!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Finally, the plot moves forward! This was supposed to be the second half of the last chapter, but the darn thing grew so big it just had to stand alone. _

_The next chapter will hopefully be up by this weekend. Long story short, I'm dealing with some job stuff that's been eating away at my time. But I'll do my best to post as soon as possible. _

_Enjoy!_

**A Mother's Love**

Sam emerged from the Impala just as Dean pulled the Donovan's door closed. Leaning against the side of the car, Sam double-checked the batteries in the EMF reader, then proceeded towards the house. Ok, so he hadn't waited the prearranged five minutes, but then again, he hadn't done a lot of things he should have lately. Like showing Dean some respect. He felt horrible about lashing out at Dean, especially given the unnatural patience Dean had been displaying lately. It was as if they'd swapped personalities for the day. Sam couldn't wait until this case was over. He didn't want to waste any time in the search for their father, but maybe it was time to take a quick mini-vacation, just long enough to get his head straight.

Sam checked his watch again as he walked up the driveway. Five minutes. He chuckled sardonically. It would probably take him that long just to get up the stairs.

A war raged within Sam between his head and his gut. His head tried to go the rational route and reassure him that, other than suffering from a lifetime of nightmares, Jenna would be alright. His gut knew better. Hannah's ghost had tried to warn Elaine Donovan and Wendy Lanigan, hell, had tried to warn _him_, that something was going on, although she probably could've found a slightly better way to do it. Even seven year old Jenna had unknowingly given him clues that there was more than just a ghost plaguing the family.

Sam approached the front of the house, scanning the area for any nosy neighbors. Other than the elderly gentleman who was mowing his slightly overgrown lawn, Sam was alone.

The four wooden steps leading up to the front porch looked as formidable as Mount McKinley in Sam's eyes. Sam took a deep breath and pulled himself onto the first stair, then used his momentum to ascend the second. He was just about to go for the third when his right knee gave out. He fell heavily into the railing, his cheeks flushed with frustration. Bending slightly at the waist, he hopped up the remaining two steps on his left leg, wincing at the loud noise the resulted from his heavy steps on the hollow wood stairs. Hopefully no one inside had heard the noise.

The slightly muffled notes of Beethoven's Allegro Assai could be heard as Sam approached the front door. He opened the door just a crack and peered in. Above the piano music, Sam was just able to make out the sounds of conversation coming from down the hallway. Dean had Mr. Donovan in the kitchen, leaving Sam to search for Jenna.

Sam made his way towards the source of the music, keeping as close to the wall as possible. All he needed was for the unseen piano player to break into the Mission Impossible theme song and the scenario would be complete.

Sam peeked around the corner, expecting to see four year old Stevie tickling the ivories. But to his great relief, it was his sister who sat at the piano. Jenna's long blonde hair brushed the back of her hands as they scampered across the ivory keys. A huge grin settled on Sam's face as he watched the little girl. She was alright.

Sam slipped into the living room and slowly walked up the piano, as not to startle the child. He held a finger to his lips as he came to her side.

The song ended abruptly as Jenna took notice of her visitor. Sam wasn't exactly sure what reaction he was expecting; a smile, a shout, a hug, or maybe even another fit of tears, but the blonde girl simply stared at him.

Sam pulled his hand down and smiled warmly. "Hey, Jenna." he whispered.

Jenna gave no reaction, just continued her blank stare. Sam couched down so he was eye level with the little girl, wincing at the fire that shot up his right leg.

"Jenna, don't you remember me? Officer Darrow? Sam? The guy with the funny haircut?" Sam grinned, hoping to draw out the sweet giggles he'd heard the day before.

Jenna turned away from the piano to fully face Sam. She continued her eerie stare, finally giving Sam a slight nod.

"Jenna!" Mr. Donovan's voice boomed from the kitchen. "Everything ok in there?"

Sam's heart jumped into his throat. Jenna's piercing blue eyes continued to bore into Sam's. He shook his head, hoping she would take the hint not to announce his presence.

Jenna turned slightly towards the hallway, keeping Sam in her sights. "Fine, Dad!" she shouted.

Sam closed his eyes in relief as Dean's smooth voice drifted in from the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Mr. Donovan, I realize what an inconvience this is. I only have a few more questions, then I'll get out of your hair."

Sam made a mental note to thank Dean later and refocused on Jenna. It was too quiet to carry on their conversation, so he grabbed the remote control and turned on the television for cover noise. Returning to Jenna, he held out his hand to help her off the stool. Sam nearly yelped as her fingers touched his…her skin was cold as ice.

Sam led her away from the piano and went further into the living room, turning her so he could keep an eye on the entrance.

Sam sat the sofa and stretched his right leg straight out. "Jenna, you called me last night." Sam whispered. "Do you remember?"

Jenna nodded.

"You, uh," Sam paused, chosing his words carefully. "You said someone was in your room."

"I had a bad dream." Jenna replied tonelessly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's what your daddy said." Sam reached out and gently took her hand. He couldn't help but shiver as her icy grasp seemed to leech the warmth from his body. "You know, Jenna, you can tell me anything. I'll believe you, no matter what. I just want to help you."

"I had a bad dream." Jenna repeated. She stood unnaturally still, as beautiful and rigid as a porcelain doll.

Sam let go of her hand and rested his elbows on his thighs. He wrung his hands nervously, not liking where this was going. The little girl was so utterly devoid of emotion, a far cry from the lively young girl he'd seen the previous night. Sure, he'd only spent a few minutes with Jenna, but he'd felt a bond with her; her melodious giggles and huge crocidile tears had seared a place in his heart. Now, he'd give anything to see any hint of the emotions she'd so easily bared last night, even if it were in the form of tears. Her stony stare was completely unsettling.

As if reading his thoughts, Jenna finally broke her gaze, sliding her eyes to the left. She focused on a point over his shoulder, her indifferent expression never changing.

The hair on the back of Sam's neck stood up, and he turned to see little Stevie staring up at him. The youngest Donovan had seemingly appeared from nowhere and was standing directly behind Sam, wearing the same lifeless expression as his sister. Sam looked at each sibling, shivering as their matching blue eyes seemed to penetrate him from both sides.

Sam got off the couch and backed up against the wall. It was ridiculous to be afraid of children, yet Sam's heart was racing. Stevie walked over and stood next to Jenna, whispering a question into his ear. She looked down at him and shook her head.

Sam shuddered. He felt as if he'd just entered the Village of the Damned. But that was crazy. Or was it?

The inner turmoil in Sam increased as he tried to tell himself that he was being irrational; there was nothing wrong with them other than the trauma they'd been subjected to. But no matter how hard his mind tried to rationalize the sudden change Jenna had gone through in one day, his gut knew better.

His hands shook slightly as he pulled out the EMF reader. He shook his head and whispered, "Please…"

He aimed the gadget at Stevie, then at Jenna. There was no denying the brilliance of the tiny red lights, or the painful piercing noise of the machine as it screamed it's warning at Sam.

Moving as if of one mind, Stevie and Jenna looked at the device, then raised their heads and resumed their unearthly stare.

"What's that?" Jenna pointed at the screeching machine. Sam quickly shut off the machine and swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat.

"One of my brother's toys." Sam forced a smile and slowly pulled out his cell phone. He refused to accept what the facts were telling him; that the two children in front of him were not Jenna and Stevie Donovan, but rather some kind of supernatural creatures. He aimed the phone at the kids and gazed into the monitor, praying that a ghost or some other invisible specter was the reason for the high readings.

Sam panned around the room, his heart sinking. There was no one…nothing else in the room. The source of the readings had to be the children.

Sam shifted back to the kids, who were now looking at him with the slightest hint of curiosity on their otherwise blank faces.

"What're you doin'?" Jenna squinted up at Sam.

Sam tried to keep calm. The children, or whatever they were, didn't seem to pose an immediate threat to him. If anything, they seemed completely docile, innocent as the children they were pretending to be. He had to gather as much intel as possible. First he had to determine exactly what he was dealing with, although he was fairly certain he knew just what kind of creatures stood before him. They had to be shape shifters. Although he couldn't for the life of him figure out why a shape shifter would impersonate a child, there really was no other explaination. Although, unlike the murdering monster they'd encountered in St. Louis, the two beings before him seemed reasonably harmless.

Sam adjusted the phone so Jenna and Stevie were in the middle of the monitor. Their eyes were as blue as the sky in the tiny screen. A bit odd; he'd been expecting to see their saucer-like eyes flare in the camera. Maybe once he actually took the picture, the creatures' true colors would show.

"Oh, just taking a quick picture…" Sam gave her a quick smile, "…you shape-shifting freak." he finished under his breath.

_Say cheese._ Sam snapped the photograph, and gasped at the image that appeared on the screen.

Although their clothing was the same, everything about the childrens' appearances had grotesquely changed. Long straw-like red hair had replaced the glistening blonde manes. Large ears poked out beneath the straggly locks. Their sphinx-like black eyes were set close together above large bulbous noses. Swollen lower lips stuck out, almost as if the creatures were sulking at being discovered. Skin the color and texture of leather was stretched taunt on their long arms; the delicate little hands that had created such heavenly music were oversized and knobby.

Sam tore his eyes away from the gruesome images and stared disbelievingly at the creatures who to the naked eye so eerily resembled the Donovan children. It was almost impossible to grasp that such hideousness could lie beneath such beauty. A wave of rage swept over him, and he swiftly grabbed Jenna's shoulders.

"Where are they?" Sam whispered harshly, his hands squeezing her hard. "What have you done with them?"

Jenna's eyes widened in surprise. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Sam gave her a rough shake and tightened his painful grip.

"What have you done with Jenna!"

The little blonde's porcelain face began to crumble. Her eyes welled with tears and she began to wail. "I am Jenna!"

Sam dropped his hands in surprise and looked to his right as Stevie's tiny fists began to beat on Sam's jeanclad thigh.

"Leave my sister alone!" The little boy shouted as he continued his mini assault.

Sam swept the tiny child away with a swing of his arm just as Mr. Donovan's voice roared from the kitchen.

"Jenna! Stevie! What's going on?"

Both children were crying now, Jenna holding onto her shoulders and Stevie on the floor where he'd fallen. Sam ran a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath. The conversation from the kitchen had abruptly halted. He heard a loud scraping noise coming from the kitchen, as if two chairs had been rapidly pushed across a hardwood floor. Footsteps clomped towards the living room even as Sam heard Dean try his best to slow Mr. Donovan down.

"I'm sure they're fine. Kids fight all the time. In fact, studies say it's the younger brother that starts nearly all of the fights." Dean's hurried voice was getting closer, the footsteps louder.

"Dammit!" Sam shoved the electronics in his jacket and quickly gauged his options. He had no weapons with him, although he couldn't risk killing the creatures anyway, not until he found out the fate of the real children. He and Dean might be able to grab the creatures and run; they didn't seem to pose much of a threat. But what of Mr. Donovan? Even with their current injuries, the brothers could deal with him in no time. Sam quickly nixed that idea. The poor man had been through enough already, and now they're supposed to, what, tie him up? Steal away the only family he thinks he has left?

With the creatures' loud wailing and the appraoching heavy footsteps swirling about, Sam made his decision. As much as he hated to do it, a swift retreat and rational regroup were his best options. He frantically looked around for a means of escape.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Dean bolted in front of Mr. Donovan as they walked down the brightly lit hallway towards the living room. He continued to blather on, hoping to give Sam enough time to get the hell out of there.

"My little brother was always pulling stuff...coming after me, then saying I started it. And of course our dad believed him...for a little while, anyway. But then I figured, if I were going to get blamed for it, I might as well have a little fun." Mr. Donovan nearly ran into Dean as the eldest Winchester stopped right in front of him.

"You'd be amazed what some finely placed Nair will do for a boy." Dean gave a clever wink, grinning brightly.

Mr. Donovan blinked rapidly, shaking his head as he pushed past Dean. "Jenna, Stevie!"

Dean held his breath as he followed Mr. Donovan into the living room. The harried man bolted over to his crying children and knelt before them. He turned his attention to Stevie first; examining him carefully to make sure none of his earlier wounds had reopened.

What the hell had happened? Why were the kids crying? Was Sam alright? Where was he?

Dean nervously searched for signs of his brother, and breathed a sigh of relief once he saw the curtains blowing by the open window. He made sure Mr. Donovan's attention was still on his children, then slipped over to the wall.

Dean peeked out of the window and breathed in sharply. Sam was sprawled out on the green grass, slowly pulling his long limbs into a seated position. Dean didn't move until Sam turned his face up to the window. Sam grabbed his knee tightly and gave Dean a stiff nod, indicating he was more or less ok.

"Well, you seem to have your hands full here." Dean edged his way into the hallway. "We'll call you if we have any further questions."

Mr. Donovan gave a distracted wave of his hand, his attention still focused on his bawling children. Dean raised his eyebrows and massaged his ringing ears as he backed out of the living room.

Dean let himself out of the Donovan house, more than a little confused. His sappy, puppydog-eyed brother could charm the pants off of anyone (although, unlike Dean, he'd never use his powers for such an immoral deed). Yet, somehow, it seemed that Sam had driven not one, but two children to tears. What the hell was going on?

Halfway down the driveway Dean could still hear one of the children's ear-piercing cries. "That is why I will _never _have kids."

Dean jogged around the side of the house. Sam had made his way to his feet and was limping heavily towards Dean.

"Sam?"

Dean reached Sam just as the taller man lurched off balance. Dean snagged him by the upper arms and held tight. Sam lifted his head and shook the hair out of his eyes. Dean nearly took a step back as he took in the sheer hopelessness in his brother's hazel eyes.

"Sam, are you ok? What happened with the kids?" Dean asked earnestly, still holding fast to his brother. Sam looked as if he were about to crumple back down to the ground.

Sam swallowed hard, an odd combination of sadness and anger splashed across his ashen face. "It's all my fault. I failed, Dean. I failed."

Sam took in a trembling breath and met his brother's shocked face.

"The kids are gone."


	11. Chapter 11

Dean parked the Impala two doors down from the motel room he and Sam shared, stewing in his dark emotions. He knew he had to be strong for Sam's sake, but as he sat alone in his car, he felt the guilt and anger build until it seemed to take away the very air he was breathing.

Nearly two decades had past since he'd almost lost Sammy to the shtriga. Dean's focus had shifted on that day, the phrase, "Watch over your brother," had become more than mere words, it was a promise...a vow. He'd sworn on that day that nothing will ever harm his little brother again. Protecting Sam was the number one priority, just a smidge below breathing. No matter what the cost, Sam would remain safe.

He'd just never imagined the cost would be this high.

Dean was drowning in a sea of, "If only". If only he'd done a bit more research, if only he'd listened to Hannah's warnings, if only he'd trusted Sam's intuition, if only he hadn't chalked Jenna's scare up to a mere dream, if only he'd left Sam at the motel and gone to check up on the little girl. Dean had a wicked set of blinders when it came to Sam. Although Sam's injuries had been far from life threatening, Dean's only focus had been to watch over and take care of his little brother. Perhaps..._if only_...he'd allowed the hunter in him to take the forefront, instead of the overprotective big brother, Jenna might still be alive.

Dean finally forced himself out of the car and walked up to the motel room, a bag of fast food clutched in his left hand. Any other time he would have devoured the contents in mere seconds, but even the delectable aroma of charbroiled burgers and greasy french fries couldn't calm his queasy stomach.

After Sam had brought Dean up to speed, Dean had used all of his negotiating skills to keep him from bursting back into the Donovan house. The irony of their continued role reversal had not been lost on the older man as he'd tried to reason with his brother. It had taken a while, but Dean had been able to calm Sam down and focus him on the facts. The creatures seemed to pose no immediate threat. In fact, judging from the childlike demeanor Sam had described, Dean was willing to bet that despite their appearance, they really were children of some sort. Although he would've liked nothing more than to go back in there, guns blazing, they first had to figure out just what the hell they were dealing with.

Dean had dropped Sam off at the motel to begin researching the odd creatures and had gone on a quick fast food run, as much to clear his own head as to grab some grub. Now, standing in front of the slightly ajar motel door, he could practically feel the anxious energy pouring out from the room. Dean's own nervousness seemed to feed on Sam's, but he pushed it away. He couldn't change the past, couldn't undo the horrific events that had taken place. Dean pushed open the door and zeroed in on the one thing he could fix.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam sat up against the headboard, books covering every surface of the bed. His right hand hovered over the laptop while his left cradled his cell phone. Sam looked up as Dean came in, and eased the laptop onto the bed.

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Caleb. Dean's back, I gotta go. Ok. Ok, thanks." Sam tossed the phone aside and rubbed his eyes.

Dean moved a few of the books and sat on the edge of the bed. "You called Caleb?"

Sam handed Dean a thick leather bound book. "One more pair of eyes can't hurt. We need to move on this fast before another child is taken."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Taken?"

Sam pulled the computer back onto his lap and gave Dean an odd look. "Yeah. Taken."

Oh crap. Sam thought the kids were alive.

Dean had spent nearly every day of the last four years yearning to be back in his brother's company, but he'd give anything not to be here for this conversation.

Dean tried to approach the subject gently. "Sam, shape shifters don't kidnap their victims."

"I know that, Dean." Sam answered slowly. "But we're not dealing with a shape shifter. Sure, they were able to alter their appearance to look like the kids, but you saw the picture. I've never seen creatures like that."

Dean shuddered. "They were seriously fugly."

Sam made a small noise of acknowledgment and focused on the computer. Dean sighed, moving so he sat at Sam's hip. He placed his hand on Sam's arm, stilling the younger man's hand as it manipulated the mouse. He didn't speak until Sam brought his hazel eyes up to meet his own.

"Sam…" he broke off as he got his first real look at his baby brother. Sam's defeated eyes were slightly glistening as they locked with Dean's. Sam held the gaze for a few quiet seconds before turning his pale face away. Sam was no dummy; he knew what the chances were of finding Jenna and the other kids alive. Their father would tell them to accept it and move on; to concentrate on those that could be saved instead of those who had fallen. Dean wasn't quite sure that was possible here.

Dean gave Sam's arm a squeeze. "Hey."

Sam turned back around, but kept his head down. Dean leaned forward and ducked his head to meet Sam's gaze.

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. He hated to see Sam so beaten. If he could offer hope, however false it may be, then it was his duty as the older brother, as the protector, to do so.

"We'll find her, Sam. I promise you that."

Sam finally looked up. He nodded and flashed Dean an unconvinced smile. Dean gave his arm another powerful squeeze, then grabbed the bag of takeout.

"Here." Dean held out one of the burgers. "I'll take over on the computer while you eat."

Sam took the burger with a shake of his head. "I'll think I'll hold onto the computer." he grabbed the book Dean had set down and handed it back to him. "You work with this."

"You never could share your toys." Dean grumbled, accepting the book and placing it in his lap.

Dean unwrapped his burger and looked at it uneasily, still not quite in the mood for food. But, knowing he had to keep his strength up, he took a small bite.

The juices from the burger were like water from a healing spring, warming his body and reenergizing his soul. His mind went blessedly blank as his tastebuds tapdanced his troubles away. Dean closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure.

"Now that's the stuff!" Dean took a monster-sized bite, not even noticing as large globs of sauce plopped down onto the cover of the book.

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he chewed. "So, whadda we know?" he said around a mouthful of food.

Sam gaped at Dean, the blinked and shook his head. "Right. Ok. Let's start at the beginning. Fifty years ago, Hannah Eagan kills her son. She claims that it really wasn't her son, that some monster had taken his place and that the only way to get him back was to kill the imposter."

"Which we now know is at least partially true. What she killed was probably the same kind of creature we saw at the Donovan's, although it obviously did nothing to bring Michael back." Dean said before stuffing a handful of fries in his mouth.

"Fifty years later, Hannah's spirit sees the same thing come after Becky Lanigan and convinces Becky's mother that the only way to bring her daughter back is to kill it. Same thing with Stevie." Sam paused and shook his head. "Hannah tried to warn me, and I didn't listen. If only I'd--"

Dean cut him off sternly. "Sammy, stop. It's not going to do any good living in 'if only's'." Feeling a bit like a hypocrite, Dean continued and voiced one of his biggest regrets. "Besides, you're not the only one she tried to warn. She tried the same thing with me, right before I tried to blast her with a round of rocksalt. Maybe if I hadn't been so damn trigger happy, we could've avoided this whole freakin' mess."

Sam blinked slowly at Dean, the initial shock at Dean's admittance was quickly replaced with a look of pity. Sam frowned, empathy oozing out of every pore.

Dean rolled his eyes. Lovely. While sharing some of his doubts had detoured Sam away from his own feelings of guilt, it had also steered them right where Dean had dreaded they'd end up. Chic-Flickland.

Dean held up a hand, cutting Sam off before he even began. "Dude, don't even start. Let's just get back to business."

Sam shot Dean one last woeful glance before returning to the facts. "Right. So, basically, Hannah somehow knew that these creatures were taking the place of the children, and she wrongly believed that by killing them, it would bring the real kids back."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. "But why children? What possible motive could these things have in mimicking children?"

"I think the more important question is, how many of them are there?" Dean said grimly. "There was Hannah's son fifty years ago, the Lanigan girl, and now the Donovans bring it up to four. We could be dealing with a whole nest of these things."

The Winchesters fell silent as Dean's words hung in the air. The children of the town were in mortal danger, and the only two people who could save them were at a loss.

Sam went back to the computer, his food forgotten as he searched for answers. Dean, having finally wiped the red and yellow swirls from the cover of the book, began to thumb through the pages with a newfound determination.

Ten minutes later, Sam sat up straight, his eyes widening. "Wait a minute."

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam held up his finger, motioning for Dean to wait. His eyes moved back and forth rapidly as he read through the information on the screen. Dean waited as long as he could, a record-breaking twenty seconds, before lightly smacking Sam's thigh.

"Hey! What've you got?"

Sam raised his hand again, reinforcing the action verbally. "Wait."

Dean rolled his eyes. If Sam wouldn't tell him, he'd see for himself. He scooted back so he was shoulder to shoulder with Sam. Grabbing the screen, he tried to pull the laptop to him.

"Did you find something?" Dean asked as he tugged on the computer.

Sam tugged back, yanking the computer from Dean's hands. "As a matter of fact, I think I did." he said, glaring at Dean.

Sam started to read from the computer when his cell phone rang. Sam and Dean locked eyes. "Caleb."

Dean grabbed the phone and handed it to Sam. "Here. Your phone, you answer it." He grabbed the computer off of Sam's lap and quickly moved to the other bed.

"Dean! I—" Sam broke off with a sigh as a triumphant Dean motioned for him to answer the phone.

"Jerk." Sam mumbled over the ringing.

Dean grinned and mouthed the word, "Bitch." just as Sam answered the phone. He chuckled a few times before his ribs sharply reminded him they weren't quite up to enduring a fit of laughter. Wincing, he wrapped an arm around his middle, and began to read what Sam had pulled up. The article was about the Eagan family, written nearly ten years after Hannah had been killed for murdering her "son".

"Oh my god." Dean breathed as he skimmed the article. The focus of the article was on Hannah's son….her only son, who had been found wandering in the woods, alive and well, ten years after his supposed death. Dean began to read snippets out loud to himself.

"'…Michael Eagan, blah blah blah…found near the north edge of the forest late Wednesday night, uh huh, ummm…. no memory of the past ten years...hasn't aged a day.' Holy crap!" Dean ran a hand through his hair, shocked at what he'd just read. Michael was alive?

Dean flashed back to the crudly made small wooden cross that had served as Hannah Eagan's gravemarker. _Beloved Mother...Love Michael._ How could they have been so stupid? He looked over at Sam just as he was finishing up his call with Caleb.

"Caleb, man, I owe you big time. Yeah, thanks." Sam hung up and looked excitedly at Dean, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Dude, I know what we're dealing with." "Dude, Hannah's son is really alive!" Both hunters spoke at the same time in their eagerness to fit the remaining puzzle pieces together.

Sam went first, cautiously swinging his legs over the side of the bed to face Dean. "Caleb found out what's been taking the kids. It's a bendith."

"A what?" Dean cocked his head to the side, unfamiliar with the term.

Sam stood up and began a limping gallop around the room, which was as close to pacing as his injured knee would allow. "It's from an old Welsh legend. The bendith were notorious for kidnapping children from their homes and replacing them with their own children, called crimbils."

"So the picture….those were crimbils?" Dean broke in.

Sam nodded.

"And they do this so no one will know the real kids are missing." Dean said, thinking out loud.

"I guess." Sam stopped pacing and leaned a hand on the wooden chair near Dean's bed. He glanced at the notes he'd taken during his conversation with Caleb before continuing. "According to the legend, the bendith take human children to raise as their own. The children are taught music and song while in a trancelike state. Most are never seen again, but the ones that do manage to escape appear not to have aged a day. They have complete amnesia from the moment they were taken until they are found, with only faint memories of sweet music."

Escape! That brought Dean back to what he'd been reading on the laptop. "Hannah Eagan's son! He didn't have a brother after all. The son who claimed her body ten years later really was Michael. A bendith must've kidnapped him and replaced him with the, uh…Kimbel."

"Crimbil." Sam corrected. "When they found him, he still appeared to be ten years old, even though nearly a decade had passed."

Dean read a little more from the article. "'The person claiming to be Michael Eagan could not give any information on what had happened to him. His only recollection was the memory of beautiful music.'"

Dean looked up from the article and grinned. "I think we got it, Sammy!"

Sam grinned back and settled himself into the chair he'd been leaning on. "At least we're only dealing with one of these things, not four like we originally thought. And Caleb didn't seem to think that bendiths are all that dangerous."

"What about it's kids, er, the crimbils?" Dean asked.

Sam's grin faded and was replaced with a troubled frown. Dean jumped in and quickly changed the subject. They could deal with the little monsters later. Right now, their main concern was killing the bendith and getting the kids back safe and sound.

"So, how do I kill this thing? Knife, bullets, rap music? Does savage music kill the beast?" Dean half joked.

"Unfortunately, Caleb wasn't able to find any info on how to kill it. I'm guessing a bullet through the heart or decapitation's our best bet." Sam quirked an eyebrow. "And who says you're killing it?"

"I say I'm killing it. You certainly can't go. Not with that bum leg of yours." Dean gestured to Sam's outstretched right leg.

Sam sat back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "What about your cracked ribs?"

Dean ignored Sam's question, instead firing back with one of his own. "Where do these things live?"

Sam licked his lips and shifted uncomfortably. "They're usually are found in caves." Sam paused, looking as if he didn't want to continue. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, who rolled his eyes as he finished. "In the woods."

"Yeah, like you're going to be able to trek through the woods on that knee." Dean scoffed. His little brother was stubborn, but even a logical guy like Sam must see the lunacy in that plan. Dean closed the laptop and set it on the bed. He softened his tone, trying to lure the fly with honey instead of vinegar.

"Here's what we'll do. I'll take care of the bendith while you wait in the car." He held up his hand to cut off Sam's argument. "The kids should be in the cave, right?" Dean asked, hitting on the real reason Sam was so determined to go. Dean continued after receiving Sam's reluctant affirmative. "Once I find the kids I'll give you a call, and you can talk to Jenna the whole time I'm bringing them back to the car."

Sam took a deep breath and stood up. The rigid lines in his forehead coupled with the obstinate look in Sam's eyes told Dean the outcome of the discussion before Sam was able to voice it. Dean rolled his eyes and settled in for the speech he knew was coming.

"Now here's what we'll really do. We'll go in there, together, and take this son of a bitch down. Then we'll take the kids back to their families." Sam's cheeks were flushed; his eyes flashed intensely. "Jenna was taken because I wasn't there to save her, because I didn't come to her aid when she needed me. I owe it to her to do this. I need to be the one to save her."

Dean bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling. He known all along that Sam would insist on going, but it was always fun to get the kid to launch into one of his stubborn, yet noble speeches. Truth be told, he was quite proud of the man his baby brother had grown into. Of course, having such a fantastic older brother as a role model certainly didn't hurt.

Dean worked to keep his face straight as he slowly stood up. He walked over to Sam, who looked like he was ready to launch into another long-winded argument if necessary. Dean saved him the trouble by clapping a hand onto Sam's broad shoulder.

"Alrighty then, Sammy boy." Dean grinned up at Sam. "Let's go kill us a bendith!"

_Well, that was a long one! Hopefully that answered some of the questions that were still lurking. If I've missed anything, or you love/hate the way everything's going, please let me know. With any luck, the next chapter will be up before Wednesday night. Thanks for reading!!!!_


	12. Chapter 12

_First, my most sincere apologies for not posting sooner. Starting a new job, and accidentally losing the final draft of this chapter put a bit of a crimp in the posting process. But I suppose it was a good thing, for I like this version a heck of a lot more than the first one! _

_With any luck, I'll have another chapter up this week. Thank you so much to everyone who's been sticking by me through this beast of a story. I appreciate the support so much!!!_

_And now...enjoy!_

**A Mother's Love**

"This is freakin' ridiculous."

Dean leaned as far back as his tender ribs allowed, giving his back a good stretch. "There's gotta be, like, four thousand miles of forest in this crappy little podunk town."

Sam looked up from the large map that was spread out on one of Trinity Library's oak tables. "Would you keep your voice down!" he hissed. He looked up and gave a wan smile to the white-haired librarian who glared at the brothers from the front desk.

Dean snorted and raised his voice even louder. "Oh, please. What's she gonna do? Rubberstamp me to death?"

"Dean…" Sam broke off and rested his forehead onto his hands. His head was pounding from the beating he'd taken the night before; although dealing with an impatient, antsy older brother had probably contributed to at least half of the headache.

Sam closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to collect his thoughts before he went off and said something he'd regret. It felt so good to retreat into the soothing darkness, away from the harsh glare of the library's fluorescent lights. A part of him wished he were back at the motel, his head resting on the slightly musty pillow while his aching knee lay buried in an avalanche of ice. Instantly, that image was replaced with a vision of Jenna Donovan huddled in a cold, dark cave, her clear blue eyes scared and pleading for rescue.

Sam started at the vivid image and lifted his head out of his hands. Dean had sat down directly across from him and was regarding him with more than a little concern.

Sam sighed. He knew that expression all to well; Dean was beginning the descent into mother hen mode. "Look, Dean---"

"You know, Sam," Dean interrupted, "maybe you ought to go find Hannah Eagan's son, Michael. After all, he did somehow escape from the bendith when he was a kid. Maybe he can give us some info that will narrow down the search perimeters a little."

Sam sat back and regarded his brother suspiciously. "Uh huh. And while I'm doing that, you'll go ahead and take on the bendith by yourself."

Dean grinned. "You read my mind! See, now that's why I pay you the big bucks."

"Dean, we've been over this." Sam said, a bit heatedly.

Dean's smile dropped; his green eyes turned serious. "Yes, Sam, we have. Look." he gestured at the large map that covered the table. "We have no way of knowing where the bendith is keeping the kids. There are 4 caves on this map, and probably even more that aren't even marked. That's a hell of a lot of territory to cover."

Sam squirmed in his chair, knowing exactly where Dean was headed. "You could barely make it up the library steps, Sam."

"Well then, I guess it's a good thing there are no stairs in the forest." Sam replied smugly.

"Sam, we've been over this."

"Yes, Dean we have." Sam's voice began to rise. "Jenna reached out to me for help, and I let her down. If I had only gone to her last night she might still be safe. And now she's out there, God know where, probably scared out of her mind, all because I wasn't there for her. And I'll be damned--- "

Sam broke off as the librarian cleared her throat in warning, glaring at him over her spectacles. Sam guiltily hunched his shoulders and lowered his voice. "I _will_ be there to save her, Dean. I won't let her down again."

A pained expression flashed across Dean's face at Sam's final fiery declaration. Before Sam could wonder about it's origin, Dean blinked the expression away and smirked.

"Very moving speech, Sammy." Dean said slowly, the twinkling of his eyes belying the seriousness of his tone. "For a minute there I could've sworn I was in one of those cheesy Lifetime Movies of the Week. You know, the ones with all the 90210 chics?" Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Man, that Tiffani-Amber Theissen has one fine rack."

Sam gave Dean a look, trying to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching into a smile. "Dean."

"So, are you going to sit around speechifying all day, or are we going to work on finding the bendith?" Dean got out of his chair and resumed his position over the map.

Sam rolled his eyes and copied his brother's movements. Using a black marker, he drew an X on the lower left of the map. "Ok, so this is the Donovan's house. And over here," another black X was drawn one inch below the first, "is the Lanigan's."

Dean pointed to an area of the map three inches past the first mark. "Right about here is where the Eagan's lived."

Sam marked the spot Dean had indicated and raised himself to his full height to get a better look at the map. His keen hazel eyes moved about, quickly analyzing the area and comparing the distance of the homes and the caves. "Which means---"

"Which means," Dean took over, tapping his finger on the map, "that it has to be one of these two caves."

"Well, technically, it's the same cavern system. Just two different openings." Sam couldn't help but to throw that in, enjoying the dirty look Dean sent his way. "Otherwise, yeah, I'd say that's where we need to be."

Dean walked over to the nearest bookcase and grabbed a small blue book. Returning to the table, he stood with his back to the librarian. He smiled at Sam, then coughed loudly, ripping a page out of the book at the same time.

Sam's mouth dropped. "Dean!"

Dean had already begun to draw his own version of the map on the pilfered piece of paper. He glanced up at Sam's perturbed face. "Oh please. Who reads the dedication page, anyway?"

"Dude, I brought a notebook!" Sam whispered loudly, pulling out the tiny pad of paper.

Dean finished his drawing, then folded the paper and put it in his pocket. "Before you go all holier than thou on me, let's not forget who just drew all over public property in permanent marker."

Public proper... oh crap!

Sam breathed in sharply as he looked at the map. He'd been so preoccupied with finding Jenna that he hadn't even noticed he was defacing the library's map.

Dean came around to Sam's side of the table. He placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, and bent down so he was level with his horrified brother.

"Congrats, Sammy." Dean said. "You made your very first treasure map."

Sam managed to close his gaping mouth and turned his head to glare at his smirking brother. "Cute."

Dean stood up and laughed, giving Sam a good whack on his back. "Come on, let's get out of here before Old Mother Hubbard gets a load of your latest masterpiece."

Sam straightened up and placed the blue book over the area of the map that he'd drawn on. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, he limped after his brother. He swallowed hard as he felt the librarian's suspicious gaze on him., then hightailed it out of the library.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Dean leaned against the side of the Impala, which was parked in roughly the same spot as it had been merely twenty-four hours ago. Like the day before, the warm sun beat down on the brothers as they prepared to enter the woods. Dean uneasily glanced at his watch. Although they still had plenty of daylight left, Sam's knee would slow them up considerably. They had to get a move on if they were to make it to the cave and back before nightfall...assuming everything would go smoothly. Dean snorted lightly. Yeah, like that would ever happen.

Sam slammed the trunk shut and hoisted a duffle bag onto his shoulder. Dean's own bag lay at his feet. He leaned down to pick it up, a moan billowing from his throat as a sharp pain moved through his middle. Sam's head swiveled over at the noise, his sharp eyes taking in his brother's movements. Dean straightened up and pressed his free hand against his ribs.

"Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "I'm good."

Sam limped over to Dean and gave him a concerned once-over. "You know, Dean, maybe you'd better stay here. You're in pretty rough shape."

Dean settled the duffle bag across his shoulder, biting his cheek to hold back another grunt of pain. He let out the shallow breath he'd been holding.

"You really want to go there?" Dean straightened his shoulders and tried to adopt a casual pose.

"Dean, I'm just saying---"

"Knee." Dean jumped in, pointing down at Sam's injured right knee.

Sam's eyes widened, then abruptly narrowed. "Ribs."

"Head." Dean delcared with a proud note of finality. He smiled triumphantly. He'd won, two injuries to one. He was just about to proclaim victory when Sam surprised him with one final word.

"Ass." Sam said with the slightest hint of a smirk on his handsome features.

Dean blinked. He hadn't injured his…. oh.

"Funny." Dean snapped. He hated to be one-upped, especially by his geeky baby brother.

Sam took a breath and held up his hands, his lips still wearing the slight smile. "I'm sorry, ok? Can we just get going?"

Dean glowered at Sam. Their injuries coupled with the dicey nature of the hunt was wearing his nerves very thin. "You started it." he grumbled under his breath.

"Dean!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever. Let's go."

Sam was right. The sooner they killed the bendith and rescued the kids, the sooner he could get his hands around a cold beer. Adjusting his bag one last time, he followed Sam into the woods.

Trekking through the woods was certainly not high on Dean's favorite activities list. Unless, of course, he was on his way to go skinny-dipping with some pretty young co-ed. Dean smiled dreamily as he allowed himself to drift back to that summer in North Carolina. What was her name? Ami? Andi? Ashli? It didn't really matter. All that mattered was how hot she looked in that tiny tank top. And then there was that little tattoo placed so delicately on her…

"Shit!"

Dean broke out of his daydream to see Sam fall heavily onto the ground. They'd only been walking for fifteen minutes, and already Sam had taken a fall. Dean shook his head and resisted the urge to begin the familiar fight to force Sam away from the hunt, knowing where they'd end up. If anything, each stumble would renew Sam's stubborn resolve to continue, as much to prove he could complete the trek as to save the kids.

"Hey. You ok?" Dean knelt down next to Sam.

The younger man had controlled his fall so that he'd landed on his left hip. Easing himself onto his butt, he brushed the dirt off his palms.

"Yeah, just lost my balance for a minute." Sam answered, obviously irritated at his mutinous limbs.

Dean did his best to help his brother up, although Sam was able to get to his feet mostly using his own power. Meekly mumbling his thanks, Sam headed back up the path.

Dean silently observed his limping brother. He'd never admit it out loud, but he was impressed by Sam's selflessness and determination. Yet another fine example of the outstanding job he'd done raising Sam.

Dean picked up the pace and caught up to Sam. Moving slightly off the path, he looked around his brother. He was just able to make out the dark brown roof of the Eagan cabin poking out from a small break in the trees. He pulled ahead of Sam and grinned as the entire cabin came into view, including the broken front steps Sam had fallen down the day before.

Dean's eyes gleamed devilishly as dozens of smartass remarks flew through his brain. He waited until they'd just about reached the clearing, then moved next to Sam.

"Sam. Hold on a minute." Dean held his left arm in front of Sam, bringing both men to a halt.

"What? What is it?" Sam whispered tensely.

Dean turned to let loose a barrage of good-natured mocking. His grin faded as he took in his brother. The younger hunter's stance was rigid as he scanned for whatever had alerted Dean. His gun at the ready, Sam's eyes continued to bounce from the house to the surrounding trees.

Dean felt a shiver go through him as Sam glanced down at him. The intensity of Sam's gaze was overwhelming. Ok, maybe this wasn't exactly the best time to pick on the kid.

"Whoa, easy there, Sammy. It's ok...there's nothing here." Dean reached out and laid his hand on Sam's outstretched arm. Sam blinked confusedly but allowed Dean to gently push down the weapon.

Sam rotated his wrist several times, looking at the gun as if he'd never seen it before. A few more dazed blinks followed by a rough shake of his head, and Sam seemed to shift back from wherever he'd gone. He looked down at a worried Dean.

"Geez, overreact much?" Dean tried to joke to lighten the tension a bit. "I know we're in the middle of a hunt, but we haven't even come close to the caves yet. I mean, it's good to be on alert, but, man, you're jumpier than a virgin at a prison rodeo."

Sam had put his gun away and bending to pick up the branch that he'd dropped when he'd switched from Dr. House to Dirty Harry. Dean expected a cross comeback, or at the least a roll of the eyes, but Sam simply sighed. He rubbed his hands over his face a few times, then ran them through his hair.

"Sorry." Sam's hands traveled to the back of his neck, then fell to his sides, hitting his thighs with a slap. "What?"

It was Dean's turn to be confused. "What 'what'?"

Sam rolled his eyes. A bit late, but it was a sign that Sam was returning to normal. "Why did you stop?" Sam asked, the slightest hint of annoyance mingling with a larger dose of wearniness.

Dean was once again hit with the urge to tease Sam about his unfortunate run-in with the broken stair, but he just couldn't do it. His little brother looked so utterly beaten, both emotionally and physically. Sam had been through so much the last few months; he certainly could've done without the stress and emotional toil this case had brought. It almost made Dean wish he'd never come across that damn article.

Dean pulled himself out of his thoughts, suddenly very aware of Sam's curious gaze. He tried to appear nonchalant. "Just a couple of horny squirrels. Seeing a shaggy-haired giant waving around a gun must've killed the mood, 'cause they scampered off. I guess they'll have to find another quiet place to play with their nuts." Dean grinned at Sam, who clearly didn't find the quip nearly as amusing as Dean had. Dean dropped his grin and cleared his throat. "You ok to keep going?"

Sam regarded him suspiciously, but held back any further questions. He nodded his head and gestured for Dean to go ahead of him. Dean shook his head and mirrored Sam's motion, waving Sam ahead. "After you, Gimpy."

Sam squinted his eyes at Dean and flipped him the bird before haltingly making his way towards the house. Dean dropped his head and moved after him, mumbling under his breath. Here he'd gone and played the good big brother by not taunting Sam, and this is the thanks he gets.

Dean was still feeling sorry for himself when he noticed Sam had stopped at the far edge of the clearing and had turned to face him. He was holding onto a nearby tree for support and was looking at Dean warily.

Dean slowed to a stop and looked his brother up and down. His knee, although painfully swollen, didn't appear any worse than it had a moment ago. Sam continued to stare suspiciously at Dean, who was beginning to get a complex at all of Sam's guarded looks.

Dean looked around, wondering if Sam was trying to get him back for earlier. "All right, what?"

Unable to cross his arms due to the tenuous grips he had on the supporting tree branches, Sam instead used his expressive face to show the full extent of his skepticism. "Well?"

"'Well' what?" Geez, couldn't Sam just come out and say things for once? This cryptic shit was getting old.

Sam pointed his chin back towards the Eagan cabin. "You've been riding me all day about me falling down the broken stairs. Well, here we are...here _they_ are, so go ahead. Let's have it."

Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Sam was more astute than Dean had given him credit for. Still, it gave Dean the opportunity to earn some brownie points; he'd probably need them before the day was out. Dean could only do sincere for short bursts...it was only a matter of time before his inner snark would surface.

"'Let's have it?'" Dean repeated. "Dude, give me a little credit. I can see how badly you're hurting, why would I add to that? And in case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of a hunt here. This isn't exactly the time to stop and do a stand-up act."

Sam pursed his lips and had the good taste to look a bit sheepish. "Wow. Um, I guess I'm sorry, then. I should've given you more credit."

Dean continued to act slightly miffed. "Yeah, well, don't worry about it. Just so you know, Sam, I'm not as shallow and callous as you make me out to be."

Dean hid a grin behind his hand as the two brothers set back into the forest. They had traveled nearly fifty yards listening to the soothing sounds of nature when Dean broke the silence.

"You know, I've been thinking."

"And here we go."

Dean ignored the muttered comment and continued. "We should have a catchphrase."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, like in the movies. 'Go ahead, make my day.' 'I'll be back.' Something cool we can say every time we kill a supernatural freak."

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally uttering a slow, "Okay."

Dean pushed past a low hanging branch, holding it back so Sam could limp forward. "Actually, I've already come up with the perfect expression for you...a Sammy Slogan, if you will."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "All right, Dean. Go ahead."

"I've fallen and I can't get up!"


	13. Chapter 13

The hunter was being hunted.

The blood-sucking creature had been silently stalking it's prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. Taking advantage of it's nearly invisible nature, it moved closer.

Closer.

Finally, the moment came. As the human paused to take a breather, the creature made it's move, streaking through the air and sinking it's stinger into the pale flesh.

Unfortunately, the hunter had been aware of the attack. The creature barely had enough time to enjoy the sweet taste of blood before the hunter struck back, crushing it with one swift slap of his hand. In an instant the tiny life was over, yet another casualty attributed to the hunter's finely honed skills.

Dean looked at the blood on his palm and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Fucking mosquitoes."

The Winchesters had more to deal with than just pesky insects as they made their way through the forest. The uneven terrain was proving quite problematic for the injured pair. Leaf covered divots and snake-like roots had sent both men tumbling to the ground several times.

Now, nearly a mile past the Eagan cabin, both brothers sported crudely fashioned walking sticks as they struggled with the continuous up-sloping of the earth.

The hunters slowed to a halt as they came upon a very vertical, and even more horizontal, hill. It wasn't the tallest they'd ever seen. Any other day they would bound up the hill in three seconds flat. But today, with their collective cracked ribs, twisted knee, and head injury, the ten foot hill seemed as tall as the pyramids. The sudden rise in the earth seemed to go for miles in either direction. Going around it was out of the question. They didn't have the time, nor the energy, to spare.

"Perfect. Just perfect." Dean leaned his elbow against a nearby tree and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I swear to God, Sam, you'd better be leading us in the right direction."

Sam took advantage of the pause to lean down and gingerly massage his right knee. The injured joint was doing it's best to keep up, but was quickly losing the battle. The blasts of fire that had accompanied every step had long since gone and had been replaced with spasms of intense blinding pain. What had started as a simple sprain had definitely escalated. He could practically feel the ligaments getting tighter and tighter, like the strings on a violin, just waiting to snap. There was no way he could make it to the cave and back again. Hell, it'd be a miracle if he was able to make it up the hill. He gave his knee a quick mental pep talk, willing it to last long enough to save Jenna and the other kids. He would worry about the return trip later.

Sam sensed Dean's eyes on him, and he quickly straightened up, working hard to keep the pain from showing on his expressive face.

"Don't worry, Dean. The cave's only about a half a mile or so west of here. We'll get there soon."

Dean continued to stare dubiously at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

Sam stuck a thumb over his shoulder. "I could go ask that family of raccoons for directions if it'll make you feel better."

Dean made a face. "Cute."

Sam flashed a smartass grin, then set his lips in a determined line. The ground seemed to level off at the top of the steep slope. The trick was getting up there. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

Dean appeared at Sam's side, ready to help his brother upwards. Dean's ashen face revealed that the eldest Winchester was also in a great deal of pain. Unfortunately, Sam knew he'd never make it up the hill without Dean's help, so after muttering an apology, he gritted his teeth and began the climb.

Each step was more agonizing than the last. Nothing, not the painful grip Dean had on his upper arm, nor the steady throb in his skull, could detract from the all-consuming pain in his knee. They were nearly to the top when Sam's knee finally gave up the fight, locking up and nearly sending him face first into the grass-covered hill.

Dean caught Sam around the waist and pulled him upward, his rumbling bellow mixing with Sam's anguished cry. Sam clawed desperately at the earth as he tried to propel himself up the hill. Two more steps….they were almost there….

Dean gave a breathless, "That's it!" as they made it onto the summit of their mini Andes. Sam rolled away from the edge of the hill and curled inward, his hands gripping his knee as it sent ripples of pain up and down his leg. He turned his head so he was facedown on the earth, letting the cool grass soothe his hot forehead as he worked to control his ragged breathing.

Fingertips lightly brushed his shoulder while a haggard voice spoke his name. Sam forced his head back to the side and looked over at the source of the voice.

Dean was lying on his side, his right arm wrapped as ever around his middle, while his left was stretched out, inches from Sam's face. Once he'd gotten Sam's attention, he pulled the limb back and used it to further cradle his ribs.

Sam pushed himself partway up and leaned on his right arm, keeping his legs perfectly still. "Dean?" he called over, concern for his brother trumping his own injuries. "You ok?"

Moving in eerily slow motion, Dean made his way up to a seated position. He released the shallow breath he'd been holding and smiled humorously at Sam. "No. You?"

Sam returned the sardonic grin, also opting for the truth. "No."

Dean took a deep breath, then winced. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against a large tree, the cocky smirk still on his lips. "Ok, then. Break time it is."

Sam watched Dean for a few moments, then turned his attention back to his knee. He worked his fingers around the swollen joint, trying to lessen the stiffness. It took a while, but finally he was able to get his knee loose enough where he could actually bend it. Now walking, on the other hand….Sam had a feeling he'd be doing a bit of hopping from here on in. What he wouldn't give for a pair of crutches or a wheelchair. Hell, he'd even settle for a piggyback ride right about now, pride be damned.

Leaning back on his arms, Sam absently rubbed his knee as he looked around. With it's mixture of tall, majestic trees and large leafy plants, the forest really was a place of splendor and tranquility. He might've actually enjoyed the beauty of the surrounding nature had he been here under better circumstances. But it seemed the only times he and Dean ventured into the wilderness were to hunt something supernatural. It's hard to commune with Mother Nature when she's constantly finding ways to deliver a hearty bitchslap.

Sam was pulled out of his reverie as he felt something crawl against the back of his hand. A huge hairy black bug the size of a Twinkie had settled itself on his hand. It's long feelers twitched as the insect regarded him with it's shiny black eyes.

"Aahh." Sam shuddered and flung his hand to the side, watching the vile creature launch itself off of his skin. It landed next to Sam's sneaker, which he promptly used to kick the thing away.

"Everything ok there, Sammy?" Dean was watching Sam with amusement.

Sam made a face and went back to massaging his knee, embarrassed that Dean had seen his reaction to the bug. It's not like had an insect phobia, or anything like that. But that was one freaky bug. It was amazing how the most beautiful places could house the most loathsome creatures.

A shot of adrenaline went through Sam's veins as his thoughts turned towards the bendith, and of the revolting crimbils that had taken the place of the Donovan children. Breaktime was over. Every second he spent sitting on his ass was one more second Jenna had to spend locked away in some cold dark cave, that evil creature doing God-knows what to her. Using the large branch he'd made into a walking stick, Sam half rose, half hopped to his feet.

Sam closed his eyes as the world blurred at the edges of his vision. After taking a deep breath he reopened them and took his first real look at the territory before him.

Trees, trees, and, or...what was that over there? Oh, more flippin' trees. The ground definitely seemed to level out from here on out. At least they'd caught a break there.

"Come on, Dean. Let's...go." Sam trailed off, his hazel eyes widening as what appeared to be a large grey blob came into focus.

Sam heard a rustling behind him, followed by Dean's slightly strained voice. "Sam? Sam, what is it?"

"I think," Sam shielded his eyes with his hand, "we found the cave."

A grunt of exertion pulled Sam's attention back to his brother, who was making his way to his feet. Balancing on one leg, Sam reached down and gave Dean a hand. Beads of sweat rolled down Dean's brow as he tried to bring himself to his full height. Dean's injured ribs kept him slightly hunched over, putting him several inches lower than Sam's towering frame. After making sure Dean was alright, Sam pointed to the cave.

Dean squinted into the distance. He nodded approvingly and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Nice going, Gretel." He looked down at Sam's knee. "You sure you can do this?"

_No. _Sam bit back his initial response, instead going for the safe, "I can if you can."

Dean rolled his eyes. Neither one was physically up to conducting a rescue, especially given the unknown temperament of the bendith. But with young children's lives at stake, not to mention their own stubborn pride, they had no choice put to go into the potentially dangerous darkness.

Years of training kicked in as the two hunters crept towards the cave. Sam did his best to ignore the unsteady twinge that wracked his knee with every step, instead focusing on the moss covered cave that lay ahead. Despite their injuries, they moved silently through the wilderness. Dean took point, Sam following a close limp behind as they edged to the side of the cave's entrance.

"You sure this is it, Sam?" Dean whispered as he peered around the corner, then looked questioningly at Sam.

Sam refused to let doubt enter in. He looked Dean square in the eyes and nodded confidently. It simply had to be.

Sam checked the gun at his waistband and the knife at his hip, then placed a flashlight in Dean's beckoning hand. The yellow light broke through the yawning darkness, revealing a vast empty space.

Dean looked over his shoulder, his eyes posing a silent question. Sam clicked on his own flashlight, and holding his gun at his side, he gave a tense nod. He was ready.

Following his lead, Sam trailed Dean out of the sunshine and into the inky darkness of the cave. He'd left his walking stick outside and was using the cold cave walls to help keep him on his feet. The fresh smells of the forest were immediately replaced by a wet muskiness as they continued into the dark depths of the cavern. Sam kept his flashlight low to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He felt all of his senses heighten as adrenaline coursed through his system.

An image of Jenna Donovan's sweet cherub face flashed before Sam's eyes, her bright blue eyes shining brightly as she giggled under Sam's oversized police hat. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sent a mental message out into the darkness.

_Hang on, Jenna. I'm coming. _


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey, remember me? _

_Ugh, I'm so appalled by how long it took me to write and post this. Chalk the delay up to a new job position and other crap that kept stealing away my "Computer Geek" time. Another word of caution...this hasn't been proofed by anyone, so any errors or nonsensical things are purely my fault. So to anyone who's still following this story...Thank you!!_

_Here's a quick snapshot of the end of the last chapter, just as a reminder. "Last time on Supernatural", and all that jazz. _

Following his lead, Sam trailed Dean out of the sunshine and into the inky darkness of the cave. He'd left his walking stick outside and was using the cold cave walls to help keep him on his feet. The fresh smells of the forest were immediately replaced by a wet muskiness as they continued into the dark depths of the cavern. Sam kept his flashlight low to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He felt all of his senses heighten as adrenaline coursed through his system.

An image of Jenna Donovan's sweet cherub face flashed before Sam's eyes, her bright blue eyes shining brightly as she giggled under Sam's oversized police hat. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sent a mental message out into the darkness.

_Hang on, Jenna. I'm coming._

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

**chapter 14**

Dean hated the dark. No, wait, that wasn't exactly true. The dark he could handle. After all, he'd spent so much time in the shadows it was a wonder he wasn't as white as, well, a ghost. No, it was the disturbing noises coming from the dark that were beginning to work his last nerve. The odd shufflings, the loud cracks. It was actually surprising he could hear anything at all, considering that his heart was beating loud enough to cause a cave-in.

Dean turned towards the noise he found most troubling; his brother's labored breathing as he half-hopped, half-dragged his way through the cave. They'd only been in the cave a half hour or so, and Dean was having some serious doubts about Sam's ability to continue on.

They'd lucked out so far, the cave floor had remained fairly level and debris free. But Dean had seen enough cave movies to know that at any moment the floor could give way to a deep and treacherous cavern. If Sam was having this much trouble on level ground, how could he possibly navigate down a cave wall?

The answer was; he couldn't. While Sam had obviously been working out more than just his mental muscles at Stanford, there was no way he'd have enough strength to turn into Spidey Sammy. If worse came to worse and the cave turned into the set of Descent…minus the slamming hotties, of course…it would be up to Dean to continue on the hunt alone.

Sam lurched into the cave wall, a low hiss rushing through his teeth as he tried to regain his balance. Wordlessly Dean stepped over and slipped his arm around Sam's waist, gently supporting him while Sam moved away from the wall. After a few wobbles, Sam was steady on his feet…foot, and Dean dropped his arm. Knowing it was futile, Dean nonetheless began a whispered plea that was quickly shut down by the firm shake of Sam's head. Moving away from Dean, Sam continued on, using the wall to help drag himself along.

Dean shook his head. Ridiculous. He had no doubt that Sam would drag himself on his belly if he had to. Dean briefly entertained the notion of knocking his brother out, for his own good, then just as quickly dismissed it. While they'd come to blows before, usually with Dean as the instigator, that just seemed too underhanded. Besides, throwing a punch wasn't exactly the doctor's number one method for nursing cracked ribs. One blow and Dean would probably pass out right next to Sam.

Feeling a bit guilty over his thoughts, Dean started after his brother…and immediately stepped into a shallow divot in the cave floor. Off balance, Dean staggered sideways and fell against the wall. His right arm folded in on itself and was sandwiched between the wall and his side. A cry of pain echoed in the long corridor as the semi dormant pain in his ribs was reawakened with a fury.

Curse words flew uncontrollably from his lips as he sunk down to the floor. He was peripherally aware of Sam's hand on his back coupled with unintelligible words of concern, but he shut them out as he tried to work his way through the pain. His tormented ribs had sucked the energy from every part of his body, and he lacked the strength to even open his eyelids. After a few shallow breaths Dean focused hard and pushed his way out of the darkness.

Sam's hand was on the side of Dean's neck while the younger man murmured soothing words. Dean looked up to see Sam awkwardly hunched down in front of him, a look of concern pulling on his pale features.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean managed to whisper in a fairly normal voice between waves of pain. He reached up to pull Sam's hand away, but Sam held onto him firmly and gave his neck a gentle squeeze.

Sam put his other hand under Dean's chin and lifted his head. "Uh huh. How's your breathing?"

Embarrassed, Dean tried again to pull away. He pushed at the hand under his chin and gave a firm, "Dude, back off." He pulled himself up a few inches, determined not to spend any more time aping the Hunchback of Notre Dame. "Just give me a minute."

Sam finally let go, looking reluctant to break the connection. He continued to stare anxiously at Dean. Tired and uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Dean shifted the conversation back to where it should be.

"How about…" Dean broke off as his ribs rudely reminded him to lower his voice. He wrapped his arm around his middle and tried again. "How about you? You don't look too good."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Dean."

Dean shook his head, then began to stiffly maneuver himself off of his knees and onto his butt. Sam's strong hands were there instantly to help the injured man. His legs splayed out before him, Dean let out the breath he'd been holding and opened his right eye. He looked Sam up and down for a second, the closed it again.

"Sit down, Sam." Dean said, removing his right arm from his ribs to pat the ground. "You need a break."

Even with his eyes shut, Dean could sense Sam's penetrating gaze upon him. After a few seconds of quiet, Sam finally spoke.

"Whatever you say, Dean."

Dean could hear the smile in Sam's voice, but he didn't care. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, and a quick peek to his right confirmed his victory. A few choppy motions later, and Sam joined his brother up against the cold cave wall.

The sound of plastic sliding across stone brought Dean's head up, and he looked over to see Sam retrieving the flashlight that Dean had dropped. Sam placed it in Dean's lap, along with his gun. Dean's eyes widened as he picked up the weapon. He'd been lucky it hadn't gone off in the fall; one shot would've certainly alerted anyone, or anything, dwelling in the cave of their presence. Like a young child clinging to his blanket, the feel of the cold steel in his hand was immediately soothing. The gun firmly set in his right hand, Dean leaned his head back and shut his weary eyes.

The disembodied sounds of the cave resumed their unsettling symphony as the cold cave wall worked to numb Dean's aching body. A series of high pitched squeaks sounded in a syncopated rhythm above the percussive cracklings of the cave. A bat, perhaps? Dean looked over at Sam's tight features resting underneath a mop of dark hair. Grinning slyly, he nudged Sam's left leg with his right.

"Ya think there are bats in here, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged, seemingly unruffled by the sly remark. "Probably."

Dean's grin slid off his face at Sam's lackadaisical response. He turned his attention back to his ribs, taking a tentative breath to see how far his lungs would be allowed to expand. He winced as a sharp pain lanced through him. Apparently, not too far.

Another series of shrill screeches echoed in the cave, much closer than before. Dean whipped his flashlight over to join Sam's, and their lights swept around the close quarters. While there were no visual signs of Bruce Wayne's creepy winged friends, the thin beams of light revealed a bigger problem.

While the fairly large chamber had been narrowing slightly the further in they went, it seemed that the tapering of the walls was accelerating from this point on. The corridor up ahead looked to be only about five feet across, with the formally high ceiling dropping to about six feet. No problem for the six foot tall Dean, especially given his perpetually hunched-over state. But at six foot five and sporting a bum knee, it certainly spelled trouble for Sam.

Dean aimed the flashlight down at the ground, groaning as he took in the rocks of various sizes that littered the cave floor.

"Looks like the maid took the decade off." Dean said drolly as he dropped his flashlight back onto his lap. His throbbing ribs protested painfully to the nervous thumping of his heart. This was not going to be easy.

Sam shifted slightly and flashed his light at Dean. "I don't suppose I could convince you to stay here?" The concern in his eyes was evident in the shadows cast by the flashlight.

Dean sat up a little straighter to try and give the appearance of being the healthier brother. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Sam lowered the light and nodded. "Yeah, I figured." he sighed.

Dean started to push himself up when a jagged pain literally took his breath away. Gasping, he lowered himself back into a hunched over position. He set the gun down and raised his hand.

"Just give me a second." Dean whispered. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn't done further damage to his ribs when he'd pulled Sam up the hill; maybe even pulled a rib out of place. As much as he hated doctors, those pompous overpaid windbags, both his ribs and Sam's knee were going to need tending to when this ordeal was all over. Danny Glover was right; they were too old for this shit.

Sam had turned sideways and had used the wall to haul himself back onto his feet. Dean watched intently as, still gripping the wall with both hands, Sam attempted to put some weight on his right leg. Sam's heel had barely touched the cave floor when his knee buckled, sending Sam sideways into the wall. After regaining his balance the younger man looked down at Dean and extended him a hand.

Dean raised his eyes and smiled humorlessly. "Right." He placed his palms on the ground and prepared for the painful ascent to join Sam. Another shrill cry from their unseen companion taunted him, but it was another sound, a low shuffling, that made him pause.

Dean froze, his senses on full alert.

"What was that?" Dean whispered tensely.

Towering above him, Sam didn't seem to have heard the second noise, and seemed to think Dean was still trying to get a rise out of him. "Dean, this isn't Goonies. Bats aren't going to fly out of some hole and attack us."

Dean picked up his flashlight and gun and slowly trained them from one side of the cave to the other. Finally sensing his brother's seriousness, Sam followed suit. Two beams, one low, one high, moved in opposite directions through the cave.

His back against the wall, Sam continued to scour the area as he whispered down to Dean, "What'd you hear?"

Dean made one more pass, then began to hesitantly inch his flashlight downward. The noise could've been anything…a raccoon, a squirrel, or a rat, provided he'd even heard anything at all. Maybe his frayed nerves were beginning to play tricks on his mind. He was just about to convey his thoughts to Sam when he heard the soft shuffling just off to his right.

Dean twisted towards the noise, aiming the flashlight in front of Sam. His finger twitched on the trigger, eager for some action.

A third noise, the sharp sound of stone hitting stone, sounded further up the corridor. Dean squinted, trying to make out if any of the shapes among the shadows were moving, but even the powerful lights from their flashlights couldn't fully illuminate more than twenty feet down the dark corridor.

Sam took a few hobbling steps forward, his shoulder brushing against the wall as he struggled towards the source of the noises.

Dean clenched his jaw and forced himself to move. Folding his legs to the side, he put the flashlight on the ground and began to get up.

Something brushed against his left leg.

Dean whirled to the left and fired two shots, the bullets leaving the gun before Dean could even see what had he was shooting at. The recoil was severe, but Dean had no time for the pain as he frantically looked for whatever had touched him.

Nothing.

"Dean?"

"Something touched my leg." Dean answered in a normal volume. No need for whispering now. Dean's ears were ringing from the thunderous echo from the gunshots.

Dean risked a quick glance behind him, needing to know exactly where Sam was. The youngest hunter stood about ten feet away, still hovering close to the wall. Assured that Sam had his back, Dean finally got to his feet.

A sharp pain hit his lower leg, followed by the small clattering of a rock hitting the ground.

"What the fu.." Dean whipped his head around just as Sam cried out.

"Son of a… Something hit me!"

Dean nodded absently, his green eyes roaming the dark. "Me, too. Something's messing with us."

Dean had barely finished his statement when Sam fired two rounds down into the lower part of the cave. Dean reached his side in three long strides. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Sam, facing back the way they'd came while Sam faced forward.

"Looks like we got the right cave." Dean muttered.

Sam gasped, his voice frantic. "Oh God, the kids! What if we---"

Dean shook his head firmly. "We didn't. It's the freakin' bendith. It's gotta be."

An instant later the brothers were assaulted from both sides by a volley of tiny rocks. Their lights played crazily across the cave walls as they tried to shield their faces from the stones. His left arm in front of his face, Dean fired another shot into the darkness. He didn't know if he'd hit anything, but the aerial attack ceased. After checking with Sam, Dean angrily called out into the dark depths of the cave.

"Alright, enough! You wanna dance, then let's dance!"

A high pitched raspy giggle filled the air, sending chills down Dean's back. The laugh had an almost childlike quality, yet there was something undeniably sinister to it.

"Jenna?" Sam called out in a falsely hopeful voice.

The eerie laugh continued as Dean murmured. "That's not Jenna."

The laughter abruptly ceased. A second later, another barrage of tiny pellets flew through the air, one of them slicing Dean's cheek. The attack continued until Sam and Dean fired simultaneous shots in opposite directions.

Dean swiped at the blood that was trickling down his face. "Ok, this is fucking ridiculous!"

"It's not the bendith. It's gotta be the crimbils." Sam said tightly.

Dean cursed their stupidity. They were so focused on finding and killing the bendith that they'd never given the vile little shapeshifters a second thought. Three kids had already been replaced by the bendith's offspring; who knew how many more there were in the supernatural litter.

"Yeah, and the little bastards have got us surrounded." Dean said grimly. "Split up?"

Sam shook his head at the suggestion. "The kids have got to be somewhere up ahead. We should keep moving...shit!"

A shot rang out, the strong smell of gun powder once again filling the air.

"Something just touched my hip!"

Dean was through with this game. Checking his clip, he muttered a string of curse words under his breath.

"All right, I've had it with this hide'n'seek crap." He stuck his flashlight under his armpit and put his gun in the front waistband of his jeans. Reaching into the sack Sam carried on his back, Dean pulled out a grenade. He held the tiny orb in the air and aimed his flashlight down the passageway.

"This is a grenade." Dean called out. "I throw it, it explodes, and a million shards of metal tear into your scaly flash, cutting you into tiny little pieces as slowly bleed to death. Now, you either come out now, or I throw it!" Dean swallowed, hoping the little bastards wouldn't call his bluff.

"One!"

"Two!"

A small crack sounded from behind him as the quiet shuffling of footsteps came from his front. Dean panned his flashlight once more, the breath catching in his throat as the light reflected off of a small shiny object which quickly moved out of the light.

"Hey!" Dean growled and whipped out his gun, firing three times. A pain-filled yelp followed by an anguished cry told Dean he'd finally hit his target. He smiled triumphantly.

"Got you, you son of a bitch!" Dean put the grenade back into the bag. After ordering Sam to stay put and keep an eye out for the other crimbil, Dean hesitantly approached the fallen creature. He knelt down next to the prone being and shined his light on it.

Bearing no disguise, the three foot tall being looked very similar to the ones masquerading as Jenna and Stevie. It's red hair was coarse and spiky, a good deal shorter than the long hair the Donovan imposters had. It's black eyes glistened with tears as it fought to catch it's breath. Dean stared unemotionally at the crimbil and watched as it took it's last breath, it's chest stilling as it's life came to an end.

A low keening filled the air, and was quickly joined by several other voices. Dean slowly stood up and backed up against a wall, his wide eyes turning towards his brother. Sam took a step towards the opposite wall and looked back at Dean as the voices rose into an ear piercing howl. The wall behind Dean seemed to vibrate from the power of the anguished howls. Sam raised a hand to his ear as the noise became deafening. Dean was about to do the same when the cries suddenly cut off.

Sam and Dean locked eyes, the former opening his mouth to speak when a low pitched growl cut off whatever he'd been about to say.

Dean swallowed hard as the angry growls seemed to grow closer.

"Oh crap."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

_Hope it was worth the wait! As soon as I catch up on reading & reviewing some stories that I'm way behind on, I'm going to get my butt going onto my next chapter (which will be posted as soon as possible!!). Thanks again!!!!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you so much to everyone who has left such amazing reviews. I attempted to respond to them all, but my lovely computer kept wonking out on me. As far as I know, all my responses went through, but my apologies if they didn't._

_snlover: Oh yes, Sam's in for a little more trouble. But those pesky ribs will still continue to nag at Dean. Those poor boys. hehee_

_Thanks again!!!_

**A Mother's Love**

The unseen crimbils' angry growls seemed to come at them from every direction. Sam gripped his gun tightly. His eyes veered wildly from one end of the cave to the other before finally landing on the grave face of his brother. Dean motioned towards Sam with his chin, his brow furrowed. Sam nodded back his acknowledgment of the unspoken message, and quickly brought his gun up. He aimed the gun at one end of the cave, then back at the other as Dean darted across the passageway, reaching his side in three swift strides.

Sam turned so the brothers stood back to back; Dean facing the way they'd came and Sam covering the front. Sam shifted nearly all of his weight onto his left leg, resting just the ball of his right foot against the floor. His arms outstretched before him, he aimed both the gun and his flashlight into the darkness, ready to fire if any of the shapeshifting creatures came at them.

"How many?" Dean's whispered words were strained, his cracked ribs coupled with the tense standoff making the question barely audible.

"Too many." Sam answered, his keen eyes watching for the slightest shifting in the shadows. The growling had quieted down to a low hum that reverberated through the passageway. Sam worked to keep his breathing at an even keel. He hadn't been too concerned at first. The crimbils hadn't seemed to pose much of a threat. If anything, the touching game in the cave, and even the mini rock assault, had reinforced Sam's belief that these creatures really were just children. Granted, they were unbelievably ugly, creepy little monsters, but they'd seemed intent on simply messing with Winchesters, playing childish pranks. But after witnessing the death of one of their own, Sam had a feeling the game was about to turn deadly.

Sam readjusted the grip he had on his gun, feeling his palms becoming slick with sweat. The waiting was killing him. Part of him wanted to run forward into the dark tunnel and just start shooting. But the crimbils had the home field advantage; they knew the layout of the caves, and were obviously comfortable moving about in the darkness. Plus, any attempt at rushing the creatures would undoubtedly result in Sam's chin rushing to hit the cave floor. There'd definitely be no running today, not with his badly sprained knee barely able to keep him upright. It seemed the only way to end the standoff was to draw the crimbils out.

Dean had apparently come to the same conclusion. "Ok, enough of the crap." he muttered. Taking the tiniest of steps away from Sam, he called out in a slightly louder voice, "All right, here's the deal. Come out now, and you won't end up worm food like your ugly little brother."

The unnerving hum stopped suddenly, plunging the cave into an even more unsettling silence. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's crass words. "Dean, you're just pissing them off!"

"Well, what the hell do you want me to do?" Dean hissed back harshly. "We're totally surrounded. We don't know how many of them there are, or what the little bastards are capable of. I don't know about you, but I don't plan on waiting around all day to find out."

"I'm just saying, we've got to approach this differently. Remember, they're children."

"Yeah, if Gollum and Dobby had kids, I bet they'd look just like 'em." Dean bit back sarcastically. "What do you want me to do, go play ring-around-the-rosy with them?"

Sam frowned. It looked like it was up to him to figure a way out of this mess. Man, this sucked. He was, in essence, murdering one mother's children to save another's. Granted, the "children" were horrid shapeshifting monsters, and their mommy dearest was a mythical baby snatcher, but still, Sam was finding it difficult to accept.

Sam cleared his throat and his mind. "We're not here to hurt anyone. We've just come to find our friend." Sam took a breath, willing his voice not to waver. "We're so sorry about your brother. It was a horrible mistake."

Dean snorted softly at Sam's last sentence. Sam ignored him and prepared to launch further into his speech when a distant cry came from the tunnel ahead.

"_I wanna go home!_ "

Sam gasped. "Jenna?" The timid word seemed to die as soon as it left Sam's lips. He tried again. This time his voice carried into the darkness.

"Jenna!"

"Sam." Dean's voice held a note of warning.

The cries of a young child floated through the air, pelting Sam's heart with each hiccupping sob. He closed his eyes in relief, allowing himself just a moment. He'd found her.

Sam leaned as far forward as he could. He stretched his left arm out towards the tunnel, using the powerful beam of his flashlight to penetrate a few inches further.

Something moved in the shadows.

Sam's right hand flew up, the gun now level with his light. Something was coming towards him.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, alerting his brother to the movement.

The weeping ceased as a small form stepped forward into the glow of Sam's light. Sam immediately dropped the gun, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"Jenna!"

The little girl stopped, her blue eyes wide as she stared at Sam. He hid the gun behind his back and aimed the flashlight up at his face, holding it at an angle to avoid giving his face a ghastly look.

Sam's entire body was practically twitching, his screwed-up knee the only thing keeping him from rushing forward and sweeping the little girl into his arms. "Honey, it's Sam. Officer Darrow. I'm here to take you home." Man, it felt so good to say those words!

Jenna took a hesitant step into the spotlight created by Dean's flashlight. Other than a slight tear on the arm of her green sweater and a few smudges of dirt on her face, she seemed to bear no physical effects from her ordeal.

"Sam, there's something—"

Sam quickly spoke over Dean's words, his attention focused solely on Jenna. "Jenna, where are the other kids? Where's your brother? Where's Stevie?"

An odd sound came from behind him, almost as if something was being dragged across the ground. Jenna was plunged into darkness as Dean swung his flashlight towards the source of the noise. Sam quickly replaced the light, not wanting to further frighten the girl. He tried to keep his smile comforting as he brought the gun back out and held it down by his thigh.

Three rapid gunshots blasted from behind Sam. He hop/spun around, his eyes locking on the retreating forms of several crimbil. Sam fired twice. Both shots missed, the hoarse cries of the crimbils fading away as they ran out of sight.

Dean slowly squeezed the trigger, nearly sending a fourth bullet towards the fleeing creatures before yanking the gun back to his shoulder. "Dammit!"

Sam wiped his arm across his forehead. So much adrenaline was running through his system, he'd swear he was sweating the stuff. He surveyed the carnage before him.

Their father would've been proud; every one of Dean's shots had found their mark. Three dead crimbils were sprawled face down on the ground, their knotted little hands stretched out towards the body of their fallen sibling. Their onyx eyes shone brightly in light of the Winchesters' flashlights, the catlike nature of their eyes reflecting the light in a brilliant green.

Sam jumped as Jenna violently resumed her sobbing. Hysterical high pitched wails seemingly too big for her tiny body filled the cavern.

Sam winced. That poor kid was going to be scarred for life. Sam turned back around, carefully keeping his gun out of sight as he faced the terrified girl. He limped forward two steps, nearly falling on the third. He quickly shoved the gun in the back waistband of his jeans before reaching a hand out towards the seven year old.

"Jenna! Jenna, honey, it's ok! No one's going to hurt you, I promise." Sam earnestly wiggled his fingers, beckoning Jenna to him. "Just come over here. I just want to take you home, back to your daddy. Don't you want to see your daddy?"

Jenna continued to cry, her dirty hands covering her face. Dean stood by Sam's right shoulder, his sharp green eyes pingponging between the dead crimbils and Sam's dilemma.

"Get her out of here. Now."

Sam leaned over even further, continuing to physically coax Jenna forward while directing his answer at his brother. "Dean, I am not leaving you here."

Even though the hunters stood mere inches apart, Dean had to practically shout to be heard over Jenna's incessant wailing. "Look, bullets took out the little ones, so chances are Big Momma'll go out the same way. They can't be too far away. I'll go smoke the bendith and get the other kids before you and Jenna have time to play tea party."

Jenna's cries had begun to slow during Dean's speech and had quieted completely at the mention of the bendith. Her blue eyes narrowed as a look of pure hatred crossed her face.

"Jenna?" Sam raised himself back to his full height, thrown by the sudden mood swing.

Dean stepped away from Sam and aimed the flashlight at Jenna's stomach, bathing her in the bright yellow light. "Come on, kid. It's time to blow this pop stand."

Jenna continued to give the brothers the death stare while taking a few slow steps backward, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Dammit, kid, we don't have time for this crap." Dean barked, directing the flashlight at Jenna's face. "Get over here, now!"

Dean stormed over to retrieve the child, who continued to back away. The yellow beam jumped around her face as Dean's angry steps jolted the flashlight.

"Dean." Sam glanced behind to make sure no other crimbils were around before limping after his impatient brother. "Dean, you're scaring her!"

Sam stopped short, the rest of the admonishment stuck in his throat. Jenna's eyes…had he just seen…?

"What the…?" Dean abruptly halted his pursuit of the child and pulled the flashlight down towards Jenna's stomach. After a quick glance back at an equally distressed Sam, the two hunters simultaneously raised their lights up to Jenna's eyes.

Jenna took one final step back, raising an arm to shield her eyes. Her reaction had been just slow enough for Sam to see her bright blue eyes inhumanly reflect back the light.

Dean's right arm flew up, the bullet leaving his gun before Sam could fully process what was happening. The tiny blonde recoiled sharply as the slug hit her just above her ribcage. Her catlike eyes still caught in the glow of the flashlights, she slowly collapsed to her knees.

"Jenna!" The cry ripped itself from Sam's throat as the distraught man ran towards the fallen child. Blinding pain seared through his right leg as his sprained knee buckled, sending him crashing to the floor.

Sam hit hard, his knees and elbows taking the brunt of the fall. The pain overwhelmed his body, temporarily paralyzing him even as his mind screamed to get up, to get moving. He could hear Dean anxiously calling to him, could feel his brother's warm hand on his back. As his breath returned to him, the new pain left his extremities and migrated down to his right knee, which was already on fire from the fall. Sam unconsciously curled in on himself, grabbing his knee and pulling it towards his chest. He lowered his forehead to the overly swollen joint, rocking slightly as he tried to breathe through the pain.

The white noise of Dean's voice became clear as he tried helplessly to calm his anguished little brother. "That's it, Sammy, just breathe through it. Come on, you've been hurt way worse than this. You're ok, just breathe." Dean squeezed his shoulder with his left hand, the gun still in his right as he kept a careful eye on their surroundings.

Sam let go of his knee with one hand, slamming his fist against the hard ground as the pain began to subside to an almost tolerable level. Lifting his head away from his knee, he forced himself to look further up the tunnel. Dean followed his gaze and silently lit the object Sam was searching for.

The dead crimbil lay on it's back, it's strawberry colored hair nearly as bright as the rivulets of blood that ran down the green sweater. It's black eyes stared unseeingly at Sam, reflecting vibrantly in the bright beam. It's full lips were twisted in an expression of pain and rage.

Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from the shapeshifting creature, his own fury building with every breath. Unable to withstand the emotional and physical pain any longer, Sam lowered his head back down to his knee and screamed.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Eyes black as night flashed angrily as she listened to her children's horrifying stories. Two strangers, two _humans, _had callously entered her home and had murdered her precious babies, killing them mercilessly with their powerful sticks of thunder. She winced as another thunderclap sounded from somewhere near the cave's entrance. Her misshapen hands curled into tightly clenched fists. No doubt another one of her children had fallen victim to the vicious humans.

She darted down the twisty corridors.

They will pay.


	16. Chapter 16

_My apologies once again for the ridiculous delay in posting. Yesterday was the first time in over a week I've even touched my computer. Further apologies for not personally answering the amazing reviews that were sent my way. From here on out I will be answering them, and will be posting the next chapter soon. Well, definitely sooner than this last one. Once again, my deepest apologies, and thank you for sticking by me! And now, on to the beating of the boys!_

**A Mother's Love**

Dean sat back on his haunches and darted the flashlight from one end of the cave to the other. Other than the dead crimbils that surrounded them on both sides of the cavern, no living creatures seemed to be approaching. After quickly reloading his gun, Dean turned the flashlight onto the prone form of his brother.

From his position at Sam's back, Dean was unable to get a good look at the younger man's face. Dean moved into the center of the cavern and knelt in front of Sam.

"Sam? You with me?" Dean asked tentatively, resting the heel of his gunhand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam's ragged breathing was his only answer. Dean leaned forward and repeated the question, a feeling of real fear beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach. Had the incident with the Jenna/crimbil finally broken his brother?

The cave became deathly still as Sam's breathing suddenly stopped. He brought his head up and began to slowly uncurl himself. His hands came out from behind his sprained right knee and formed shaking fists that slammed themselves onto the rocky floor as he exhaled forcibly. In one quick movement he pushed himself up onto his right hip. His dark eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light as they locked on Dean's.

The force of the hunter's gaze was so strong Dean had to resist the urge to back away. He watched silently as Sam retrieved his gun, his eyes never breaking their deadly stare. After blindly reloading the weapon, Sam shifted his focus to the lone body at the unexplored end of the cavern.

The tiny ball of fear began to grow as Dean took in Sam's rigid posture. Sam was pissed. Really pissed. Given the wily and unpredictable nature of the crimbils, a pissed-off, injured, guilt driven Sam was the last thing they needed.

"Now, Sam, hold on a minute." Dean began.

"Help me up." Sam cut in, already struggling to get to his feet.

"Sam--"

"Dean." Sam's tone held no room for argument. But that had never stopped Dean before. Especially when it came to his baby brother's health.

"Alright, Sam. Enough. You can't—"

The air flew from Dean's lungs as a large blurry creature came from nowhere, launching itself into the hunter and throwing him back several feet. He landed hard on his back, the impact wreaking havoc on his battered body. The pain from his ribs short-circuited his senses, hurtling him out of the dark cave and into the even heavier opacity of unconsciousness.

"Dean!" Sam watched in horror as the wiry creature flew at his brother. Nearly as tall as the Winchesters but with only half their build, the bendith straddled over Dean's still form, it's knobby hands reaching towards the unconscious man's throat.

Blinking himself out of his daze, Sam gave out a yell and twisted around, his body following his gun as he aimed it at the beast. Sam yelled his brother's name and pulled the trigger, only to have the bullet sail wide as a screeching crimbil burst out of the shadows and leapt at Sam's outstretched arm. The gun flew from his hand as the force of the crimbil's attack twisted him sideways.

Off balance, Sam fell onto his back, the snarling creature still attached to his arm. Sam lifted his shoulders off the ground and reached over with his left arm just as the crimbil sunk it's razor sharp teeth into Sam's right forearm. Sam dropped back to the ground, an agonizing scream ripped from his throat as the pain shot up his arm. Exhaling furiously, Sam redoubled his efforts and managed to grab hold of the crimbil's scrawny neck, yanking it off his bloody arm and hurling it against the wall. The creature hit the wall with a dull thud and fell to the ground, dazed but still conscious.

His heart pounding, Sam snapped his head around just in time to see Dean land a weak but still potent punch onto the bendith's gaunt cheek. It's hands dropped away from Dean's throat as it was pushed sideways from the force of the blow. But the supernatural being recovered quicker than the panting Winchester, returning the favor by viciously backhanding him across the face.

Sam tore his eyes away from the fight, looking desperately for his gun. He instinctively ducked his head as a loud shot boomed in the narrow passageway. His ears ringing from the close proximity of the gunshot, Sam turned to see two crimbils huddled up against the wall. Sam's flesh eating opponent held the gun awkwardly in it's hands while the other held onto the chomper's shoulder, anxiously keening. The gun toting crimbil, who was obviously a few years older than it's terrified kin, was turning the weapon over and over in it's hands as it tried to figure out the strange tool.

Hampered by the pain in his right limbs, Sam clumsily scampered closer to the two creatures.

"Hey! Drop that, now!" Sam yelled, drawing startled gasps from the crimbils. He stopped short as Chomper pointed the gun, albeit waveringly, at him. It had already set the gun off once. Accidentally or not, the crimbil had obviously figured the weapon out.

Sam fought hard not to scream in frustration as horrible sounds of the fight between Dean and the bendith filled the air. As much as he wanted to leap, well, limp, to his brother's rescue, he had to deal with this first.

Chomper grinned, Sam's blood staining it's jagged teeth. Sam cursed and covered his head with his right hand as the crimbil clumsily pulled the trigger, the force of the blast jerking it's hands just enough to send the bullet up towards the ceiling. Tiny fragments of stone fell onto the trio as the smaller crimbil continued it's terrified whimpering.

The tiny shards were still showering down as Sam made his move. Pushing off on his left leg, he hurled himself at the startled beings, his momentum nearly sending him headfirst into the wall as he landed on the snarling creature. Sam's blood slicked hand delivered a powerful right hook right onto Chomper's jaw, the gun safely back in his left hand even as the stunned crimbil went limp beneath him.

Sam's victory was short lived as Chomper's buddy suddenly went bipolar. The pitiful sniveling turned into a rumbling growl as it jumped onto Sam's back, it's breath hot on Sam's neck as it's tiny hands gripped huge handfuls of Sam's thick dark hair. Sam nearly dropped the gun as his hands flew instinctively towards his head. Using the butt on the gun, he landed a painful blow on the crimbil's back while his other hand struggled to dislodge the being from his back.

"Let go, you…little….bastard!" Sam's repeated attacks only seemed to further incense the creature. The crimbil gave one final yank of Sam's head before wrapping it's bony arms around Sam's neck. Sam gasped as his air supply was abruptly cut off.

The walls seemed to shake as another gunshot rang out, although the perpetrator was anyone's guess. Sam pulled at the deceivingly strong arms, hoping the gunshot was a sign that Dean was doing a hell of a lot better in his battle than Sam was in his. Gasping for air that wouldn't come, Sam pushed himself onto shaky legs. His right leg buckled, sending Sam into the wall. He twisted at the waist as he fell, violently sandwiching the crimbil in between himself and the wall. It gave a low grunt, but didn't release it's grip. Sam's limbs grew heavier, the already dim cave growing darker as Sam began to lose his grip on consciousness. Knowing he only had one more chance left, Sam once again propelled himself against the wall, putting every once of strength he had left into the move.

His head smacked painfully against the wall, the crack of his skull meshing with the sickening sound of the crimbil's bones breaking. Sweet oxygen flew past Sam's lips and he fell forward, barely catching himself before hitting the ground. The body of the dead crimbil limply slid off his back and landed in a heap next to it's still unconscious brother.

Gasping the cold air back into his lungs, Sam was finally able to check on his own brother. Unable to get a clear shot, Sam half ran, half crawled his way towards where Dean and the bendith were locked in a brutal exchange of punches and jabs.

A cry from Dean snapped Sam's attention back to the fight between his brother and the bendith. Dean had fallen to his hands and knees, his left hand bracing against the floor while his right was wrapped tightly around his ribs. Blood dripped from his lips as he clenched his teeth in agony. The bendith hovered above him, it's hideous face wearing the evidence of Dean's own handiwork. Sam watched in horror as the scowling creature moved in for the kill.

"No!"

Bracing himself on his elbows, Sam took aim and fired.

Even in the dim shadows of the cave, Sam was able to see the bendith jerk backwards as the bullet slammed into it's chest. It staggered back a few steps, looking disbelievingly at the dark stain of blood that steadily grew under it's long fingers. Lifting it's hand away from the wound, it looked from Sam down to Dean.

Already a step ahead of the evil being, Sam fired another shot just as the bendith bent to resume it's attack on a still recovering Dean. Sam's second shot was fatal, landing in the center of the bendith's wrinkled forehead. Almost instantly the monster slumped to the ground next to a clearly stunned Dean.

Sam lowered his head onto his arms and gave a sigh of relief. It was over. The bendith was dead. Sam smiled into his arms and laughed in relief. Now all that was left was to find the children and get the hell out of there. But first, he had a brother to tend to.

Sam turned onto his back and scooted backwards towards the cave wall. He used the rough stone to pull himself upright, biting his lip from the searing pain in his knee and the new heat from the wounds in his arm.

Dean, too, had managed to pull himself to his feet, although his six foot frame was slightly hunched over due the obvious pain he was in.

Sam's knee twinged dangerously on his next step. He heeded the warning and stopped, using the delay to try and assess just how badly Dean had been injured in the fight with the bendith. Lighting the older man in the brilliant glow of his flashlight, Sam called out to him.

Sam winced as Dean wearily lifted his head. A nasty looking gash oozed blood down Dean's cheek, as did the tiny cut near his left eye. Dean's stubbly chin was smeared with blood, a fact that deeply worried Sam, especially given the unnatural position Dean held himself in. Had Dean suffered internal injuries? Had one of his cracked ribs punctured a lung?

Dean held up a hand to shield his eyes. Sam took the hint and lowered the flashlight. He was just about to voice his concerns when Dean spoke.

"Don't worry. It ain't as bad as it looks." Dean's voice was strained, but strong.

Sam limped forward a few more steps before he had to stop again. At this rate he'd reach his fortieth birthday before he'd get to his brother's side. Leaning up against the wall, he once again flashed the light at Dean's already bruising face.

"I don't know, Dean. It looks pretty bad." Sam said, giving Dean a good once over.

Dean's eyes widened as they focused on a point over Sam's left shoulder.

Crap! He'd forgotten about Chomper! The little beast was mere feet away from Sam when the youngest Winchester twisted at the waist and fired, striking the crimbil in the heart with the first shot. It took one final step before collapsing to the ground, it's dead eyes reflecting bright green in the glow of Sam's light.

Sam's arm throbbed in time with his racing heartbeat as he stared down at the lifeless crimbil. He pushed back the feeling of relief that threatened as he gazed at his kill. For all he knew there could be dozens more of the vile little bastards between him and the missing children. He couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not even a second. Not until the children were safe and sound in their own beds.

"Nice shootin'." Sam jumped a bit, startled at how close Dean's voice was. He looked over his shoulder to see a ragged looking Dean regarding the crimbil with utter disgust.

Sam moved to face Dean. "Saved your ass." he joked, his quick smile fading as he got a closer look at the multitude of colors Dean's face was already turning. "Aw man, she got you good." Sam hissed sympathetically as he reached out towards his brother.

Dean leaned back and knocked Sam's hand away. "Ok, that was not a 'she', that was one nasty mother fu— " Dean broke off as he saw Sam's bloodsoaked arm. Lightly grabbing his wrist, Dean gently moved it into the light of his own flashlight.

"What happened to you?" Dean asked as he examined cautiously moved the ripped fabric to get a better look at the skin underneath.

Sam winced as he got his first good look at his arm. The toothy little creep had done some real damage. Blood still welled up from the six deep puncture wounds that decorated his arm in a dark red arch. Six long scratches lacerated his arm where the crimbil's teeth had torn through his flesh.

"I'm fine." Sam answered, deflecting the original question and answering the one that was sure to follow. His big brother was nothing if predictable when it came to Sam's wellbeing.

Dean looked up at Sam and nodded. He let go of Sam's arm and stepped back. "Take care of that." he said sternly as he backed away.

"Whoa, what're you doing?" Sam started to follow, knowing full well what Dean was up to.

Dean checked his weapon. "Stay alert. Lord knows how many more of these little creeps are lurking around."

Sam furiously pushed after his brother. "Dean, you're hurt! Dammit, Dean, you can't go in there alone!"

Dean stepped over the body of the bendith, giving it a sharp kick in the side as he passed over it. He turned back to give one final order.

"Stay alert, Sam." Dean repeated sharply before disappearing into the murky darkness.

"Dean!!"


	17. Chapter 17

"Dean! Dean!!"

Sam's cries traveled down the cave's dark corridors, his voice giving chase where his body could not. Sam used the wall to pull himself along as he furiously tried to keep up with his older brother. His tattered right arm burned nearly as hot as his injured knee as both limbs tried their best to propel the determined man forward.

Sam carefully stepped over the bloodied carcass of the bendith. The next instant Sam found himself sharing the floor with the corpse, his defective knee once again pointing out the downfalls of gravity.

Sam sat forward, grimacing in disgust as he pulled his hands out of the warm pool of blood that spread across the cave floor. Sam gave a shudder of revulsion as he wiped his sticky palms on his pants. Judging from the warm squishy sensation that surrounded his hind quarters, it was a safe bet the jeans were already ruined.

Sam's gun and flashlight had fallen clear of the gory mess, and he quickly retrieved them before hauling himself back onto his feet. A quick check to his backside revealed the seat of his dark jeans had become even darker from the soaked-in blood of the bendith.

"Perfect. Just freakin' perfect." Sam muttered. He shoved the gun and light under his armpits as he gingerly picked the wet fabric away from his butt. He supposed there was one upside to Dean taking off like he did. Having his sardonic sibling witnessing Sam soaking his ass in fresh bendith marinade would've been the final indignity.

Sam finally realized he had no chance in hell catching up with Dean, given his head start and healthy two legs. He forced himself to stop and take a moment to tend to his arm. Using his pocketknife, he cut a strip of cloth from his shirt, which he proceeded to wrap tightly around his forearm. Sam flexed his hand a few times, relieved that the crimbil's deep bite had done no tendon or muscle damage. He wanted his hands to be in full working order when he wrung his impulsive brother's neck.

Sam continued further into the cave, shaking his head as his anger resurfaced. How could Dean just take off like that? Injured and in the dark, both literally and figuratively, about what lie ahead, Dean's actions were completely foolish and irresponsible…and exactly what Sam would've done if their situations were reversed.

Sam's anger intensified with the realization that the person he was really upset with was himself. It all came back to the fact that everything was his fault. His ill-fated trip down the broken stair back at the Eagan cabin had started it all, effectively knocking his knee and himself out of commission. It was if he'd left his common sense at the foot of those stairs, as every decision from then on seemed like the wrong one. Not listening to his gut and going to Jenna when she called for help, insisting the injured pair finish the hunt when a very healthy and capable Caleb was only hours away, and finally, letting Dean go by himself to rescue the missing children. Well, not like he had much choice on that one, given the sorry state of his right knee….which of course led back to him blundering onto the broken stair.

A shot rang out from somewhere up ahead, pulling Sam out of his state of self pity and plunging him into a deep vat of fear. Sam stopped short, his heart in his throat.

Sam yelled out his brother's name just as another shot rang out. Frantic, Sam reached for his cell phone, already knowing there was no way in hell to get a signal this far away from town, let alone deep inside a cave. Sam cursed angrily as the dreaded words mocked him from the little screen. _No signal._

Yeah, and no chance of saving your brother if you stand around feeling sorry for yourself, Sam thought to himself as he pushed himself onward.

But the faster Sam tried to move, the more the infernal cave worked to slow him down. While the ceiling had risen enough for Sam to stand upright, the walls had steadily begun to close in on him. That in itself wouldn't have been that big a deal, had it not been for the large rocks and tiny pebbles that littered the ground.

Two more clumsy hops brought Sam to where he could brace himself against both sides of the cave walls, allowing for a somewhat smoother pace. He'd finally worked up a decent momentum, even managing to vault over some of the larger piles, when the tiniest noise reached Sam's ears.

Sam immediately flattened himself against the wall, pointing his flashlight and weapon back the way he'd came. After a few long seconds of silence the rustling began again and grew steadily louder. Whatever was making the noise was coming fast. Allowing for the crimbils' diminutive height, Sam aimed his gun low and prepared to fire.

"Oh crap." Sam covered his head just as a large cluster of bats streamed through the narrow corridor, their bony bodies whacking and scraping Sam's arms and shoulders. He dropped as low as possible and waited for the swarm to pass, hoping he wasn't about to be bitten for the second time that night.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sam cautiously peeked his head out only to duck as two more fliers followed after their creepy buddies. Sam shuddered. Bats suck.

Having survived his Goonies moment, Sam took a shaky breath and smoothed down his hair. He couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. He'd faced demons, werewolves, practically every evil creature that the world could spit at him. But send a tiny two foot rat with wings his way and the mighty Sam Winchester cowers like a scared child.

He was still chuckling to himself when something large slammed into his back, sending him crashing face first onto the rocky ground. The fall jarred the unseen creature's grip on Sam's shoulders, and it hissed as it tumbled forward off of his back.

Sam didn't waste time gawking at the creature's hideous appearance; confirming that it was a crimbil was enough for him. Sam grabbed a rock and hurled it at the snarling creature, hitting it square in the chest. The crimbil fell to the ground, hugging itself as it gasped for air.

Sam desperately searched for his gun. Reaching around blindly, his left hand came upon his flashlight. He flicked the light on just as the recovered crimbil leapt forward, a large rock in it's hand. Sam had no time to execute a block as the crimbil slammed the rock down on Sam's head hard enough for the hunter to see stars.

"Aaah!" Sam dropped his head down to his arm and gave it a good shake. Blinking hard, he looked up just as the crimbil was about to deliver another crushing blow. Sam rolled to his side and narrowly missed what could've been a fatal blow. He thrust his flashlight forward and knocked it hard against the crimbil's knee as it reared back for another try. The heavy rock fell from it's hands as the crimbil crumpled to the ground in agony. The stocky being cried out in a deep voice as it writhed in pain.

Sam pushed himself onto his elbows, ignoring the searing pain in his right arm as he searched frantically for his gun. A grin flashed across his face as his light found the missing weapon. Using his left leg to push himself forward, Sam scrambled towards the gun that lay several feet away.

A rock the size of a golf ball flew in front of Sam's face, pulling him up short of his goal. Another sailed across his back, missing Sam by nearly a foot. Sam looked at the crimbil in amazement as it reached for more ammo. The little guy couldn't throw for shit! But Sam wasn't about to give it the opportunity to improve on it's pitching stats. He refocused on retrieving his gun, which lay just out of reach.

Sam pushed forward with both legs, the pain and frustration and rage exploding from his lungs in a loud yell. Sam wrapped his fingers around the gun just as a third rock, roughly the size of a softball, whizzed by, missing Sam by inches.

"Three strikes, you're out." Sam twisted to the side and pulled the trigger, watching in grim satisfaction as the crimbil fell forward, dead before the rock rolled out of it's hand.

Sam rolled onto his back and took a deep breath. "Man, I hate those little bastards."

After taking a few moments to calm down, Sam sat up and probed his latest wound. A small lump was already forming near the top of his head, but at least there was no blood. Continuing his inspection, Sam shined the light down on his right arm. The makeshift bandage was saturated with blood, the torn tissue below throbbing from his latest adventure. Sam didn't even bother checking on his knee. Lord knows how the damn thing was even still attached.

Sam got to his feet, wobbling a bit as the cave tilted below his feet. "Don't you start that crap now." Sam threatened himself, not willing to let the dizziness in. Sam stared straight ahead as the world leveled out. He was just about to take his first step when the faint sound of a child's cry floated in from the corridor in front of him.

Sam's eyes widened, and he held his breath, straining to hear. Other voices joined the first, their sobs gaining in volume and intensity.

"Oh my God." Sam breathed, feeling the first glimmer of hope he'd had in days. Cupping his hand around his mouth, Sam yelled for all he was worth. "Jenna!!"

The cries continued, leaving Sam unsure if they'd even heard his voice. He screamed the other two children's names. The cries seemed to lessen slightly, but were still tinged with fear.

Sam looked back the way he came, his mind sailing back to the dead body of the bendith. With the supernatural creature dead, whatever hold it was said to have had over children must have died along with it. Sam could only imagine the terror they must be feeling, waking from a trance all alone in some dark, dank cave.

Sam dropped his hand. Where the hell was was Dean?

Leaning forward, Sam put his hand back and screamed his brother's name, praying to hear Dean's annoyed voice telling him to put a sock in it, to hold his horses, hell, he'd even take a, "Shut up, already!". But the only sounds he heard were the continuous cries of the kidnapped children.

Sam sighed, frustrated and scared by Dean's silence. What if Dean had veered off in the wrong direction? Just because the cave had been straight forward thus far didn't mean it didn't branch off into several tunnels up ahead. If that was the case, he might never find Dean, or the children. Sam refused to consider the other possibility…that Dean's injuries or more crimbil had gotten the better of him and he was…

Sam shook off the thought. No way. Dean was an amazingly skilled and resourceful hunter, second only to their father. There was no way those overgrown toads could take him out. And his injuries didn't seem that bad. Right?

Sam pushed his fears away and squared his shoulders. Focusing on the children's weeping, Sam followed the voices down the corridor.

The voices and the passageway grew with every step, as did the clutter beneath Sam's feet. The bones of some poor animal littered the floor as he rounded a sharp turn. Another group of bats, or perhaps the same one, flew by his head as he entered a fairly long straightaway, putting a momentary pause in his trek. Hoping that was the last inhuman thing that would pass his way, Sam pressed on.

His injuries were starting to get the better of him. Sam couldn't deny that fact any longer. His left leg burned from the exertion of doing double duty while his right staunchly refused to have any weight put on it. Blood dribbled from the gashes in his arm and trickled off his fingertips, leaving a bright red trail on the grey stone. The pounding in his skull was manageable, but nonetheless extremely irritating.

Sam leaned against the wall and wiped the sweat from his brow. If he didn't find the kids soon, he'd end up crawling his way through the tunnels.

Sam lifted his head away from the cool rock and cocked it to the side. Wait, when had the children stopped crying? He'd been so wrapped up in keeping his failing body moving he'd never even noticed the eerie hush that had befallen the cave. Oh God, what if something had happened to them? And where the hell was Dean?!

Sam cried out each child's name, adding Dean's name at the end. More concerned than ever, Sam moved forward, the flashlight stretched out as far as his long arm would allow. He'd just hopped around a corner when Dean's voice, unbelievably close, made him jump.

"Sam, would you shut the hell up already? You're scaring the kids!"

Sam's eyes opened nearly as wide as the grin that slowly spread across his face. "Dean?"

Sam pulled himself forward a few more steps as the still unseen Dean answered him.

"Yeah, Sam, we're here." Dean's voice was weary, but Sam could still detect a smile in his voice. "All of us. Now stay put, we're almost to you."

"Yeah, right." Sam muttered. Feeling as if he could climb a mountain, Sam broke into a sloppy half run, half hop. He'd nearly reached a sharp bend in the cave when his foot skidded on a patch of loose gravel. Sam fell in a heap just as a very ragged, but very much alive Dean rounded the bend with three small children surrounding him.

"Ow." Sam winced as he pushed himself up on scraped palms. He cursed, still unaware of the four pairs of curious eyes that stared down at him.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Watch the language, Sammy, or I'm gonna have to wash your mouth out with soap."

Sam's head snapped up, grinning goofily. "Dean." His brow scrunched with concern once he noticed Dean's hand resting heavily on the shoulder of a cute little brown haired girl. "You ok?"

Dean nodded his head wearily. "Kids make great walking sticks. I highly recommend getting one."

Sam turned serious. "These are really the kids? You're sure?"

Dean nodded, ruffling the hair of the brown haired girl, who stiffened at his touch. He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, I've, uh, I've got a way with kids, you know."

Sam rolled his eyes and looked at the girl. "You must be Becky."

The little girl nodded her head shyly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Sam smiled reassuredly. "Don't worry. We're going to take you home now."

Sam looked to Dean's right where a small girl with long blonde hair regarded him with her bright blue eyes. Sam smiled, feeling his own eyes well up. Willing his voice not to crack, he asked gently, "Jenna? Are you ok?"

Jenna nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Glancing up at Dean, she moved a few steps closer to Sam. Sam shifted his sprawled out body to a more graceful position, sitting on his butt with his legs straight out.

Jenna looked Sam up and down, tilted her head to the side and asked, "Where's your hat?"

Even Dean had to grin as Sam gave a hearty laugh. He bent his left leg and casually rested his elbow on it. "Tell you what. You be a brave girl and keep the tears away, and the hat's yours."

Jenna folded her arms. "I don't cry. Crying's for babies." she said indignantly, drawing another laugh from the hunters.

"I've been telling him that for years." Dean deadpanned.

Even Dean's snarky remarks couldn't put a damper on Sam's emotions. The bendith was dead, and more importantly, Dean and the kids were safe and sound. Sam grinned up at Dean, who hid a smile behind his hand and shook his head.

A small blonde boy toddled over and looked straight into Sam's face. "Hello."

"Hello back." Sam grinned. "You must be Stevie."

Stevie scowled, looking back at his big sister with disdain. "My _name_ is Steve. _She _calls me Stevie, but my name is Steve. I keep telling her to stop calling me Stevie, but she won't quit it."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I hear ya, buddy." Sam said, looking up at his own sibling.

Dean moved his wrist down to where Becky was holding the flashlight. "You wanna wrap this up, _Sammy_? It's past your bedtime."

Sam's grin refused to budge. Not even the dreaded nickname could dampen his mood. Sam looked into Stevie's…_Steve's_ big doe eyes and said, "Whadda you say, Steve? Time to blow this pop stand?"

Steve didn't answer. He continued to stare at Sam, who smiled disarmingly at the boy. "What is it, Steve?"

Steve reached a chubby hand forward and poked at Sam's cheek. "You have a hole in your face."

Sam threw back his head and laughed, his dimples growing as his laughter filled the cave. Dean looked down at his baby brother and finally let his own laughter out, punctuating the act with an uncomfortable, "Ow.", and rubbing a hand ruefully across his middle.

Sam got himself under control and nodded, a few giggles still escaping. "You're right, buddy, I do." He handed his flashlight over to Steve, who took the large blue instrument with glee, immediately shining the light all around the cave.

Sam looked over at Dean and held up an arm. Dean took the hint and walked over to the trio, Becky firmly at his hip. Dean helped Sam to his feet, Jenna and Steve assisting as best they could.

Dean steadied the wobbly man. "You ok, Sammy?"

Sam looked down at the three children. "Couldn't be better."

Dean grinned and gave Sam's shoulder a hearty squeeze. He reached up and ruffled Sam's unruly hair.

"Come on, Sammy. Time to go home."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

_We hope you enjoyed this "very special" episode of Supernatural. lol...just kidding. Heaven help me, I'm a sucker for a bit of brotherly mush._

_Anyhow, I'm hoping to tie up the loose ends in one final chapter, which will be posted, um, soon. I hope. _


	18. Chapter 18

_Well, here it is. The last looong chapter. I probably should have split this into two chapters, but since I stated there would only be one more, I didn't want to go back on that. Oh, and I should definitely mention that this has not been beta'd, so any goofs are completely mine. So, with my apologies for the length of this beast...enjoy! I'll see ya at the bottom!_

**A Mother's Love**

Sam Winchester felt a bit odd sitting, well, laying in the back of the Impala. For the better part of ten years, minus his stint at Stanford, Sam had ridden shotgun in his brother's classic car, even managing to get behind the wheel a few times over the last several months. It was also the first time in practically forever that he'd had to share the backseat with anyone. But Sam couldn't complain too much about the seating arrangements as he looked down fondly at his backseat companions.

Sam smiled contentedly as tightened his arms around Jenna and Steve Donovan. The two children had insisted on riding in the back with Sam, using his lanky, muscular body for a mattress as they finally succumbed to the lure of slumber.

Sam felt a sneeze threatening as a strand of Jenna's long blonde hair tickled at his nose. Moving slowly, he dislodged his left hand from around Steve's shoulder and smoothed down the little girl's hair. He scrubbed his hand across his nose, pushing away the sneeze that would surely wake the sleeping children.

Sam's finger brushed lightly against the back of Steve's neck as he brought his hand back around the boy. Steve shifted and whimpered at the touch before snuggling closer to Sam. A red three inch welt marred the back of Steve's neck, looking raw and painful. Sam squinted and ran a finger just above the strange wound, trying to determine the cause of the injury.

The car hit a pothole, giving it's passengers a jolt. Sam winced as the two children stirred, but thankfully did not waken.

Stretching his neck forward, Sam sent a good-natured crack up to the front seat. "You wanna take it easy there, Speed Racer?"

Dean craned his neck around to glare at a smirking Sam before returning his attention to the road. "You try driving with a forty pound appendage attached to your side." Dean grumbled in response.

Dean was actually driving quite well, considering his right arm was doubling as a teddy bear of sorts to a sleeping Becky. The little girl snuggled close to Dean's side, her head resting just below his shoulder as she clung to his arm. Becky had practically adhered herself to her savior, never leaving his side even once throughout the long and arduous trek through the wilderness and back to the car.

Jenna stirred, murmuring as she shifted into a more comfortable position. Sam bit his lip as her leg knocked into Sam's badly sprained knee. Breathing through the pain, he put his hand on her lower leg, ready to grab the fidgety limb the next time she moved.

"You all right back there, Sammy?" Dean asked, his green eyes glued to the rearview mirror.

Sam rolled his eyes, more at the dreaded nickname than the question. From the moment they reunited in the cave, Dean had made it a point to drop as many "Sammy's" as possible. His little game had not been lost on Jenna, who in turn tortured her own little brother. However, whereas Dean had inserted the word during normal conversation, "How ya doin', Sammy?" "You need a hand, Sammy?" "How much longer, Hop-along Sammy?", Jenna had employed a slightly less subtle approach. Dean had watched proudly as the feisty seven year old went for flat-out mockery, chanting, "Stevie, Stevie, Stevie!", over and over in a singsong voice. As expected, Steve had turned it into the age old sibling duet, whining an increasingly shrill, "Quit it!" with every breath. Even Sam had joined in, adding background vocals while he tried unsuccessfully to play mediator.

It had been one very long night.

Sam swallowed the initial response to correct Dean, hoping his voice wouldn't reflect his annoyance. "Yes, Dean, I'm fine."

The corners of Dean's eyes crinkled in the rearview mirror, his unseen grin revealing Sam was unsuccessful in hiding his exasperation.

Jenna squirmed, whimpering softly as dark images filled her dreams. Sam lowered his head closer to hers, whispering soothing words as he gently rubbed her back. After a few moments her furrowed brow smoothened. Her rapid breathing began to even out as she pulled herself into a tiny ball, her head resting against Sam's stomach.

Sam sighed and leaned his head back against the side window, thinking back to the conversations he'd had with the Donovan kids during their escape from the cave. Steve seemed to bear no ill effects from the ordeal. He remembered nothing of his kidnapping, nor his time with the bendith. In fact, the entire night had seemed like one big game to the four year old. Dean had appointed him Sam's protector, a role the child had taken most seriously. Steve had carefully guided Sam through the cave, steering the limping man through the stones and pebbles that threatened to send Sam tumbling to the ground. And although the dark woods had initially frightened him, Steve put on a brave face and stuck close to Sam's side, using the flashlight to illuminate roots and various other obstacles that lay in their path.

Steve would be fine, the memories of the night eventually would fade in time. Jenna, on the other hand, wasn't faring quite as well. Taking a page from the Winchester book of denial, the little girl had changed the subject every time Sam asked about her kidnapping. It was only after Sam sent Steve over to clear a bunch of rocks from the cave floor that she opened up, slightly, about her memories.

Jenna, too, could not recall how she had ended up in that cave. However, she did have an all too clear memory of Steve being snatched in the middle of the night by the bendith. Sam had struggled with how much of the truth he should divulge. It was always tough letting people into the sinister world he and Dean inhabited, but even more so when it came to children. After carefully weighing the options, Sam had gone with the truth. He'd even shown her the bendith's dead body while the other two children covered their eyes. Her hand had squeezed Sam's painfully as she looked upon the creature that had turned her life upside-down. Her lower lip had quivered, but to her credit, not a tear was shed. Instead she looked up at Sam with such naked grief in her eyes that Sam felt physical pain at the innocence that had been lost. Dean had looked on with sympathy and his own feelings of sadness and regret as Sam did his best to comfort the girl.

With the children asleep, Sam was finally able to catch up with Dean. Knowing the pain Jenna was going through, his first concern was how Becky was faring. Trying to keep his voice somewhat low, Sam asked what Dean had found out.

"What did Becky tell you about the bendith? Does she remember anything?"

Dean shook his head. "She remembers her mom tucking her in at night. The next thing she knew she was in the cave with Jenna and Steve, with no idea how she got there."

Sam winced. Poor kid. "What'd you tell her?"

Dean shrugged. "What could I say? I told her she must've been sleepwalking."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "That's one hell of a walk."

"Yeah, she didn't buy that one, either." Dean said. "I tried being as vague as possible; that some weird stuff had been going on, but it's all over with, and that she's safe."

Dean paused in his narrative, prompting Sam to urge him on.

"And…?" Sam pressed.

Another shrug. "And that's it. She didn't really say anything else…except that she wants her mom."

Sam closed his eyes. Ah crap, her mom. "You didn't tell her about that, did you?"

"I figured this wasn't exactly the best time to tell her that her mom's currently in jail for killing her." Dean said dully. His voice was tight with worry. Sam sighed again. Killing the bendith and her nasty little offspring had been a piece of cake compared to what they were facing now with the three kids.

"We've gotta tell her sometime." Sam was not looking forward to that conversation.

"We can deal with that later. First we've gotta take out those two little bastards that are still shadowing as Jenna and Stevie." Dean pointed out.

"Steve." Sam corrected automatically, his mind already flashing back to the two crimbil he'd encountered at the Donovan's. It was the middle of the night; how the hell were they going to handle this? Dump off the kids at the door, bolt up the stairs and blast the two creatures right between the eyes?

Sam voiced his thoughts to Dean, who turned around and gave a sly smile.

"Sounds good to me."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Becky's tiny hand was warm in Dean's left hand, a sharp contrast to the cold steel in his right. He readjusted his grip, his finger curling around the trigger in anticipation of filling the final two crimbils full of lead.

Dean locked eyes with Sam, each holding the gaze for several seconds before shifting downward towards the children.

Standing on her own front porch, Jenna's brave front had begun to crumble. Unlike the other children, Jenna had been cursed with the truth. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine what must be going through her head right now. Sam had done his best to fill in only the necessary blanks for her, shielding her from the more vile details. Although Dean had initially questioned Sam's choice to show Jenna the dead bendith, it was the right choice. Her innocence had been lost the moment she witnessed her mother attacking her brother, her mother's seemingly crazy rants about ghosts and monsters confirming that the thing Jenna had seen spiriting away Stevie was real. As terrible as that night must have been, the real horror must have been in the days following, knowing that more than likely the same fate would befall her.

"Daddy's coming!" Stevie announced, lightly padding from one pajama-clad foot to the other in anticipation. The glow inside the house got brighter as various lamps were switched on.

Jenna moved closer to Sam. "You're sure he's my Dad? What if he's….you know?" Her blue eyes bounced from the window to the door and back again.

Sam looked at Dean, then glanced down at Stevie and Becky. Dean nodded that he'd gotten the message. The other kids were still in the dark as to what had really happened. It was bad enough Jenna was forced into the dark world of the supernatural; there was no way they would let Stevie and Becky be tainted as well.

Dean turned his attention to the two children, distracting them so Sam could talk openly to Jenna. "Remember, you are to stay with Sam until I come back out and tell you it's ok. Got it?"

"But I wanna help! I can show you where the fire stingers are!" Stevie whined.

Dean sighed. The cover story he'd fed the children, that he and Sam were fire fighters sent to do a thorough check of the house to ensure everything was up to code, had backfired, as the impressionable four year old wanted nothing more than to stay at their side. Although he could tell Becky didn't buy it for a second, she didn't question Dean, still willing to go along with anything her hero said.

"They're fire _extinishers, _and I already told you, Stevie, you have to stay out of the house until I'm completely done. Understand?" Dean looked sternly at the blonde, who scowled back at him.

"It's _Steve_." Steve corrected emphatically. Dean didn't respond to the correction, simply maintaining his firm gaze until Steve gave a reluctant nod. Becky also nodded her understanding, her hand still wrapped tightly around Dean's.

Dean gave another long suffering sigh. Kids.

Dean looked over at Sam, who also gave Dean a nod. His arm was draped paternally around a still nervous, but somewhat more settled Jenna.

The front door opened, a groggy and confused Mr. Donovan blinking at the visitors.

Mr. Donovan's bloodshot eyes widened as he looked down at the faces of his children.

"Hi Daddy!" Steve said brightly, a huge grin stretched across his face.

"Jenna? Stevie? What the…? What are you doing with my children!?" Mr. Donovan looked back into the house, then down at the three children standing on his front porch.

"Mr. Donovan, listen to me very carefully." Dean paused as Mr. Donovan's attention focused onto his children. "Hey! Mr. Donovan, I need you to listen to me." he repeated once the older man's rapidly blinking eyes had finally settled on Dean. "I need you and the kids to stay out here with Sam. Whatever you hear, do not come into the house until I come and get you. Do you understand me?"

Dean pulled his gun out from behind his back, positioning it so only Mr. Donovan could see. The father of two gaped at Dean, his stubbly face turning pale at the sight of the weapon.

"Take whatever you want, just don't hurt my children." Mr. Donovan pleaded, reaching a tentative hand out.

"Daddy! They're fire fighters. They don't hurt people." Steve haughtily corrected his father.

Dean rolled his eyes. Grabbing Mr. Donovan's arm, he pulled him out of the house and switched places with him. "Do not move from this spot." he ordered. Exchanging one final look with Sam, Dean shut the door.

Dean moved stealthily down the hallway, making his way to the staircase. Edging up the carpeted stairs, Dean listened for any signs of movement coming from the upstairs bedrooms.

Dean peeked around the corner, taking in the four doorways. A tiny bit of light streamed from three of the rooms, probably from nightlights. Dean crept past the first room, a bathroom, and made his way past the parents' bedroom.

Dean approached the third room. His gun at the ready, he paused just long enough to see long blonde hair cascading across the pink bedspread. Dean moved down to the final bedroom. After confirming the presence of the sleeping crimbil, Dean quietly closed the door and went back to Jenna's room.

Dean took a small penlight from his pocket and shined it right onto the closed eyelids of the slumbering creature. He nudged the bed with his leg, pushing the mattress several times and shaking awake it's occupant.

The creature's childlike hand went up to shield itself from Dean's light, but not before he caught the unearthly gleam reflected in the glow of the penlight. The crimbil was still blinking it's way into wakefulness when Dean made his move.

"Nighty night, bitch." Dean pulled the trigger, hitting the creature right between the eyes.

Unlike the crimbil that had taken Jenna's likeness in the cave, this one retained it's stolen form in death. The creature stared lifelessly up at it's killer, the catlike glow of it's eyes the only indication of the monster that was hidden beneath.

One down, one to go.

Dean left the room immediately and stalked back to Steve's room. Jerking the door open, he rushed into the bedroom and aimed the light directly onto the crimbil's glowing eyes. The creature was sitting up in bed, undoubtedly awakened from the loud report of Dean's gunshot. Not even bothering with a wiseass quip, Dean fired one final time. The crimbil jerked as the bullet slammed into it's skull. Dean watched in grim satisfaction as the form of Stevie Donovan fell back onto the pillows, the final crimbil dead.

"Now that's what I'm talk— ow!" Dean victory grin turned into a grimace as a wave of pain rippled across his ribs. Putting the gun and light away, he gingerly wrapped his arms around his middle and approached the bed.

Dean stared down at the dead crimbil, weaving slightly as the adrenaline started to wear down, allowing exhaustion to set it. Dean nudged the mattress with his knee, watching as the crimbil's head lolled to the side.

"That is one seriously ugly mother—" Dean's cell phone rang, cutting off his flowery statement.

Dean checked the caller ID, already knowing it was a concerned Sam on the other end. He flipped the phone open, answering with a weary, "It's done."

"_You're ok?"_

Dean made his way down the stairs as he answered the question. "Dude, I so need a beer." Pausing at the bottom of the staircase, Dean asked his question. "How are things out there?"

"_I filled him in on everything, although I'm not sure how much of it he believes."_

"I have a feeling seeing the bodies of two dead monsters lying in his children's bed will go a long way in convincing him." Dean hung up as he pulled open the front door.

A pale Mr. Donovan leaned against one of the wooden uprights, an arm around each of his children. Becky ran over to Dean, grabbing tightly to his arm and staring up at him with large frightened eyes.

Stevie pulled away from his father and walked over to Dean. "Did we win?"

Dean caught Sam's eyes as he answered Stevie's question.

"Yeah, Stevie. We won."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

It had been three days since Sam and Dean had reunited the real Jenna and Steve with their father. Three long days of holing up in their seemingly shrinking motel room, the brothers' unconsciously competing to see who could be the better nursemaid, and who could drive the other more insane.

Dean paced around the room, using his shoulder to keep the cell phone at his ear as he reached down to adjust the pillows that surrounded Sam's leg. Deep in the midst of his own telephone conversation, Sam could only reach forward and slap Dean's hands away, glaring at his brother and mouthing the words, "It's fine!"

Dean glared back but relented, moving away from the bed and heading over to the window. Turned away from Sam's prying eyes, Dean reached under his shirt and gently tugged on the bindings that wrapped his entire midsection. A pit stop to the ER had uncovered that Dean had suffered not only two cracked ribs, but that he'd also pulled a rib muscle. Certainly nothing life threatening, but enough to put a serious crimp in his lifestyle. While he was definitely ready to take a small break from hunting the supernatural, he was way overdue in his pursuits of the female variety. However, due to his unfortunate injury, it looked as if the ladies of Trinity would just have to make do without him. Pity.

The tinny muzak that had assaulted Dean's ear finally ceased as he was finally taken off hold. His slightly hunched posture automatically straightened as he listened attentively to the information on Elaine and Becky Lanigan. Dean interjected his own questions here and there, ending the call with a meek, "Thanks." and slamming the cell phone down on the table. While he'd gotten all the information he'd needed, it wasn't exactly the news he'd wanted.

Running a hand through his hair, Dean sighed and used his foot to move one of the hard backed wooden chairs out from the table. Moving it so it faced away from Sam, Dean carefully straddled it and stared at his brother. He drummed his fingers lightly on the back of the chair and listened as Sam tried to wrap up his conversation with the Jenna Donovan.

Sam's dimples were working overtime, making an appearance every few seconds as Sam seemed incapable from keeping a grin from his face. Sam's hazel eyes shot over to Dean, twinkling happily as he posed another question. His chin dipped down as he let loose a throaty laugh. Sam's mood was infectious, and Dean soon found himself smiling over at his kid brother. After the hell Sam had been through the last few days, it felt beyond fantastic to see him happy.

Ten minutes later, Dean's smile had faded while his impatient finger tapping had gone into triple time. Sam's chuckles now bordered on aggravating as Dean mentally willed him to hang up the damn phone!

Dean's patience fell away like the last drop of sand in a very small hourglass. Rolling his eyes, he cleared his throat very loudly. Sam continued with his conversation, prompting Dean to redouble his efforts. This time Sam responded by holding up his pointer finger, indicating he'd just be one more minute.

Dean resisted the urge to flash Sam one of his own fingers, and resumed his impatient drumming. At the end of the promised minute, Dean couldn't take it any more.

"Yo!" Dean splayed his arms outward, his eyes wide as he stared at Sam. "You wanna wrap up the girl talk, already? For cryin' out loud!"

Sam frowned at Dean, but began the effort to end the conversation.

"Jenna. Jenna, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I really have to get going. Yeah, yeah." Sam's eyes flitted back to Dean, smiling mischievously. "Yeah, he is. Yeah, I know, but he's my brother." Sam threw his head back and guffawed loudly. "You noticed that too, huh? No, it's better off not telling him. Trust me on that."

Dean narrowed his eyes into the big brother death stare, silently warning Sam that if the next few words didn't include, "Goodbye," Dean was going to begin pelting him with the greasy, ice cold french fries that sat on the table, left over from the previous night's dinner.

"All right, I'll talk to you soon. Ok, hun, bye." Sam hung up the phone and raised his eyebrows at Dean as if to say, "Happy now?"

Dean cocked his head to the side, giving his own silent answer. "About damn time!"

Outloud, Dean got back to business. "So how's she doing?"

Sam reached down and readjusted the air cast that engulfed most of his right leg, keeping the severely sprained knee immobilized. "Better. No nightmares last night. Oh, and Steve's coming home the day after tomorrow."

Dean grinned. "That's great."

The morning after The Winchesters had reunited Mr. Donovan with his children, the stressed out father had taken Steve to the police station, demanding they release his wife immediately, and that all charges be dropped. Insisting a horrible mistake had been made, Mr. Donovan vehemently denied that his wife had attacked their son. The police had been completely baffled as they looked at Steve's flawless skin, the deep cuts and abrasions that had marred his body only one day earlier, completely gone. Child services had taken the child away, checking him into the hospital for a series of physical and emotional tests to try and uncover the truth.

"So are they releasing Mrs. Donovan?" Dean asked, hoping for a true happy ending.

Sam shook his head. "No. Well, not yet. Although the doctors were able to back up Mr. Donovan's claim, there's still the matter of the police report, the pictures and medical reports detailing the extent of the attack. But, with Steve showing no physical signs of the attack, plus passing a lie detector test— "

"They put him through a lie detector test?" Dean interrupted incredulously.

Sam nodded before continuing. "The D.A.'s going to have a hell of a time prosecuting this one. It'll take a while, and Mrs. Donovan'll probably have to have supervised visits with the kids, as well as massive amounts of therapy, but I think, in time, the family will be back together."

The brothers sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Sam was the first to speak, asking Dean what he'd found out about the Lanigans.

Dean blew out a breath, wishing his own story had a better ending.

"The cops still have no clue what to make of that one." Dean began.

"Becky's still at the foster home?" Sam asked.

"Mmhhmm." Dean stuffed a cold, limp, day old french fry into his mouth. "I guess she's gone through much of the same testing Stevie went through. Her dad's in town, fighting for temporary custody while the whole thing gets straightened out."

Sam gaped as Dean devoured several more fries, momentarily distracted by his loud chomping. "Um, so what about the charges against Mrs. Lanigan?"

"Well, they burnt "Becky's," Dean made greasy air quotes with his fingers, "ashes, so they caught a break there. But they still have to deal with the other physical evidence, as well as Mrs. Lanigan's signed confession. Even though Becky's alive, they still have a murder to solve." Dean paused to down another fry. "We'll just have to wait and see, and hope it all works out in the end."

Sam's mouth was twisted in a miserable frown. "Yeah, I guess."

Dean silently observed his troubled brother, knowing the effects of this case would be staying with him long after they left the tiny hamlet. Needing to say something to fill the uncomfortable silence, Dean softly asked, "You ok?"

Sam snorted, keeping his eyes cast downward. "Just peachy." he answered dryly.

Dean stared at Sam for a few more moments. Forget the cold, dark graveyards, the mind numbing terror, the numerous injuries and constant threat of death...this was the worst part about hunting. Dealing with the emotional aftermath.

Dean got up and walked over to Sam's bed. Stiffly positioning himself near Sam's knees, he sat facing his little brother. Sam's eyes bounced up for the tiniest second before retreating, the slope of his shoulders decreasing as they followed his gaze downward.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it. The line between a heartfelt pep talk and a nausea inducing chick flick moment was a very thin one. He needed to choose his words carefully.

"Look, I know you wanted the storybook, 'They all lived happily ever after,' ending, but life doesn't always work that way." Dean frowned as Sam rolled his eyes. Dean switched gears. "Sam, three children are alive because of us. We saved their lives!"

"Please. They were in a cave listening to music." Sam shook his head. "Destroying all those lives, stealing children just to teach them music. It's just so damn ludicrous."

Dean blew out a nervous breath. He'd held back a horrible fact when recounting his discovery of the children, not wanting to further burden Sam's conscience. However, given the rock bottom state Sam was in, Dean decided to tell him the truth.

"There was more going on in there besides just music, Sammy."

Sam finally looked up, hesitant curiosity tingeing his tone. "What do you mean?"

"Did you notice the marks on the kids' necks?" Dean asked, referring to the comma-shaped welts that had been on each of the children.

Sam tilted his head to the side as if remembering, then nodded.

"I think the bendith was feeding off the kids somehow. You know, their…" Dean snapped his fingers, searching for the correct word, "…their lifeforce or something."

Sam pursed his lips, a far away look in his eyes as he tried to sort through the new information. "But why--?"

Dean sighed. He really didn't want this next fact to come to light. "Sam, the place where I found the kids was littered with bones. Human bones."

Sam's face paled. "Oh God."

"Remember Michael? Hannah Eagan's son? He showed up ten years after his mother supposedly killed him, yet he hadn't aged a day." Dean recounted.

"He hadn't aged because the bendith had been feeding off him all those years." Sam finished slowly, real understanding finally dawning. "I wonder how he got away?"

Dean shrugged. "He's lucky he did." Dean leaned slightly forward and lightly bumped Sam's arm with his fist. "And it's damn lucky Jenna and the others had us in their corner, or else…" Dean trailed off, hoping his words were enough to bring Sam some comfort.

Sam dropped his head again, whispering, "Yeah. Or else."

Dean frowned. This was not going the way he'd hoped.

"Sam, look at me." Dean ordered in a no-nonsense tone. Sam sluggishly lifted his gaze, his thick bangs not quite covering the tense lines of his forehead.

Dean ducked his head so his eyes were level with Sam's. "We did a good thing here. We saved three innocent lives and killed a whole clan of butt ugly creatures all in one day, and still managed to walk away relatively intact." Dean looked down at Sam's cast. "Well, limped away."

Sam smiled at Dean's gentle quip, even managing a small laugh as he gently pushed his fingers against his thigh. "Yeah, I guess we did."

Dean smiled. "Damn right we did."

Dean settled back, silently regarding his brother. It would take some time, but Sam would be alright. Dean cleared his throat, changing the subject.

"What do you say we get a move on? If I spend one more day looking at these four walls, I'm gonna go postal." Dean said, already hoisting himself off the bed and heading over to the dresser.

"Are you sure you're up to driving? Maybe we should stay a few more days, you know, heal up a bit more." Sam asked.

"Dude, I broke a few ribs, not my hands." Dean turned around. "Besides, you can keep tabs on Jenna just as easily by cell phone as you can from here." Sam scowled when Dean called out the real reason Sam wanted to stay. "Good try, though."

Dean resumed packing, quickly finishing up his bag, then moving on to Sam's. He could feel the younger man's eyes boring into his back as Dean shoved the clothes into the large duffle bag.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean's ears perked up as the all too familiar sound of a hand reaching into a bag of candy immediately followed Sam's voice. A split second later a volley of M&Ms sailed through the air, pelting him on the back of the neck and shoulders.

Dean ducked his head, whipping around. ""Dude, what the hell?"

Sam grinned somewhat sheepishly, looking away for a second, then smiling sincerely at Dean. "Thanks, man."

Dean looked at Sam a moment, then turned back to his packing. "No big deal. You know, you really need to get some new clothes, man. Since when did you become such a mousy preppy? I mean, come on! I can't believe you're willing to be seen in this crap."

"I didn't mean for the packing, Dean. I meant—" Sam tried to correct the misunderstanding, but Dean cut him off.

Keeping his back turned so Sam wouldn't see his smile, Dean paused in his packing. "I know, Sammy. You're welcome."

**The End**

_Well, that's it! Thank you so much for reading along, and a massive thank you to everyone who has dropped me a line on the story. Your amazing support means more than I can possibly say. Thanks again!!_

_-Susan_


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